


Dragon Heart

by HellsAngel921



Category: Batman - All Media Types, DC Extended Universe, Superman - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe - Dragons, Alternate Universe - Fantasy, Angst, Cultural Differences, Dragon Slayer!Bruce, Dragon!Clark, Friends to Enemies to Lovers, Happy Ending, Hurt/Comfort, Identity Porn, M/M, More like species differences, SRB 2020, Superbat Reverse Bang
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-14
Updated: 2020-07-14
Packaged: 2021-03-04 22:27:27
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 8
Words: 27,660
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25263829
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/HellsAngel921/pseuds/HellsAngel921
Summary: Kal wants to make up for his past.Bruce tries to move on with his future.They eventually meet in the middle.
Relationships: Clark Kent/Bruce Wayne
Comments: 16
Kudos: 117
Collections: Superbat Reverse Bang 2020





	1. Chapter 1

Please please PLEASE go check out the amazing fanart by Bones [HERE!](https://twitter.com/Bonanza_Nuts/status/1282770954926477312)

I feel so bless to be working along side two wonderfully talent artists ;~;


	2. Prologue

_ A roar. Ear splitting in volume and filled with a rage no creature had ever had the misfortune of hearing pierced the air, served as their only warning. _

_ In the next second, the streets filled with fire as the citizens ran for their lives, terror and panic urging them to find shelter from the buildings collapsing all around them. _

_ The two titans in the skies couldn’t be bothered to care. The sounds of their battle-the flap of mighty wings beating, the impact of their sharp claws on stone, the terrifying rumble of their snarls and roars-drowned out all of the tiny humans beneath them. Compared to these unstoppable forces of myth, what could one do but cower and flee… _

_...and die? _

* * *

Bruce jerks awake, the scream threatening to tear out of his throat was stifled into short raspy gasps that slowly dissipated together with last dredges of his nightmare.

No. Not just a nightmare, he reminds himself. A memory.

No matter how he longed for it all to have been just an illusion of some sort, some dark and twisted unreality his mind could have conjured up from too much stress, he knew Gotham would not be forgetting the sound of those thunderous roars any time soon. Wouldn’t forget the feeling of dread as the two creatures, larger and more terrifying than imaginable, descended from the clouds towards them all. Wouldn’t forget how helpless he felt as he scrambled around fleeing citizens and crumbling buildings, trying to help anyone trapped and unable to escape. Forcing himself to ignore the unmoving forms already crushed underneath debri.

His hands fisted the sheets in anger. Now that he was no longer frantically running across his city trying to find any survivors amongst the wreckage, the pale lifeless faces of all those lost amongst the destruction fed the building rage inside of him. Some small voice from within the far recesses of his consciousness reminded him not to get so worked up, or there would be consequences but Bruce couldn’t pay attention to such a thing; could only focus on the bitter, ugly feelings of failure and frustration slowly overtaking him. 

Until a loud cough interrupted his darkening thoughts, unpleasant and wetly originating deep from within his chest. And then another. Each one more violent and painful than the last until he was left curled up on his bed, eyes shut tight and left hand unconsciously clutching onto his nightshirt with his mouth pressed into the crook of his other elbow in order to stifle the noises.

It was all in vain however, as not a minute later he could hear the sound of his bedroom door open and close. Then there were gentle hands guiding him into a sitting position and rubbing soothing circles against his back until his hacking subsided. When Bruce opened his eyes, he was greeted to the sight of his oldest friend’s comforting, if a bit concerned, face.

“Alfred.” Bruce greeted, smiling tiredly.

The older man nodded back politely then reached over the night stand to Bruce’s right for a cup he hadn’t noticed before.

“Right then, Master Bruce. As always, please hold it directly underneath your nose and inhale.” Alfred instructed as he handed over the cup.

Bruce obeyed, taking a moment to stare down into the piping hot liquid, clear save for a few leaves of herbs resting at the bottom, before slowly breathing in the steam and feeling it soothe his throat immediately. Out of the corner of his vision he saw the other man begin to tend to his duties, straightening Bruce’s blanket from the mess he had made it into-making sure to pull it up so it would be evenly placed over his master’s legs then fluffing up his master’s pillow to prop it against the headrest should Bruce decide he wanted to lean comfortably back. Bruce couldn’t contain a small amused smile when he noticed the careful way Alfred lingered on his pillow. The man’s hands may be working on one thing but his eyes were most likely paying attention to how well the herbs were working and Bruce knew if he showed any signs of displeasure towards the concoction, he’d be on the receiving end of a scolding.

Alfred, the man hired by the late Lord Thomas Wayne himself, was an enigma to all of the other Lords and Ladies who came to partake in the various banquets he’s hosted before; polite and cordial to guests as befitting the role of head of the Wayne manor’s servants yet held a bearing about himself that didn’t allow any funny business within his presence. It was oftentimes a topic of gossip in the past, the elite making quips and giggling on how absurd it would be to be reprimanded by a manservant, even one who was employed to the acclaimed Wayne estate. It was those same ones who laughed that would find themselves thrown, quite physically, out of the property faster than they could finish a sentence.

Bruce remembered the ridiculous way some of the men had tumbled onto their rear and did their best impressions of gaping fish out of water. He snorted at the memory and shook his head when Alfred looked his way with a raised brow.

‘It’s nothing, don’t worry about me’ is what he wants to say, to put the man at any ease after all the years of taking care of him. But those are not the words that will placate him, so he glances back down, gaze settling on the herbal mix brewed to help fix the damage prolonged exposure to smoke had done to his throat and lungs. The damage he knows he didn’t have to suffer through but chose to do so for a reason long accepted but never spoken of. The same reason that allowed him to pick himself back up from the despair of the night that took his parents from him years ago. The same reason Alfred has accepted-if with some reluctance.

“Thank you, Alfred,” is what he says instead.

Alfred straightens upon hearing this and places his hands behind him in a formal position. “Nonsense, Master Bruce. I am merely putting the various skills I acquired through my many years to use.” The servant responds in a matter of fact tone, before moving over to the large dark curtains draped over the bedroom windows, pulling one aside. “Besides, I would hardly consider the amount of herbs in that container adequate enough but with this weather, it is quite difficult to maintain any large amounts of the plant as it requires direct sunlight to thrive.”

Bruce understands as he solemnly stares out of the window up into the grey clouded sky. Gotham wasn’t a place that usually saw the amount of sun that a city like Metropolis would find normal but since the attack, sunlight had simply been non-existent.

“You are doing the best you can, Alfred.”

There is a pause. Bruce tries not to squirm under his servant’s suddenly knowing eyes.

“Yes. As are you, Master Bruce.”

There is another moment of silence, now much more tense than the last as Bruce averts his eyes to the side. Since the moment Bruce had started certain eccentric nightly activities, the man had been prone to planning more and more to prevent the same tragedies that befell his younger self. As the years passed, and the more he began to push himself to achieve more and perform better; the harsher he became to both himself and those around him when he failed. They both know he blames himself far more than he should for things out of his control but there is a stubbornness in the man he refuses to let go of, and although Alfred often states that it is a trait he sees his Master has inherited from both of his parents, it is also something that causes immense grief to him. His stubbornness does not stop him from knowing he is doing good, doing something his parents would be proud of but it also doesn’t allow him to see past all the people he couldn’t save.

_ The pale lifeless faces, crushed underneath falling debri- _

“Master Bruce.” Alfred’s voice cuts through the thought in his head.

Bruce looks back to see the man is frowning, likely knowing where his charge’s mind is headed and obviously disapproving.

“Don’t, Alfred.” Bruce sighs, placing the cup in his hands to the nightstand so he could run one tiredly down his face. His mood was already plummeting. He hadn’t planned on having an argument with his friend today, especially not so soon after the incident.

“Master Bru-”

“I said I-!” Bruce started to unconsciously raise his voice, unable to help the bout of anger that suddenly shoots through him, but doing so has irritated his throat and a fit of violent coughs painfully interrupt whatever he had wanted to say.

Alfred is by his side in an instant, once again rubbing gentle hands in small circles against his back until his coughing dies down. It leaves him exhausted afterwards, breathing harshly and he blinks sluggishly down as the cup he had set down before reappears under his nose. It’s being held firmly by the same hands that had been soothing him before.

“You need to inhale for ten more minutes, Master Bruce. Then you need to rest more.”

Bruce responds with a small grunt and tilts his head to a better position to breathe in the steam again. When he reaches back for the cup Alfred moves his hands to place them over Bruce’s. He thinks it’s only to make sure the cup doesn’t end up spilled over the bed but when his eyes glance up, he sees the way his oldest friend's face twists with worry and his chest fills with guilt.

“Alfred, I’m sorry.” He manages after several attempts against a sore throat and even then his voice doesn’t cooperate enough to make his words sound anything less than a croak.

“...I know, Master Bruce.” Alfred doesn’t quite sigh but his tone is close enough to exasperation that Bruce winces. “Five more minutes. Then you will rest.”

Bruce acquiesces, if only to give Alfred peace of mind for the moment.

He hopes the nightmares are done with him tonight.


	3. Encounter

The clouds have finally started dispersing weeks later when Bruce parts the blinds to peer out into the sky. He sees the slivers of sunlight that seep through the small gaps of grey, and feels a sense of relief when he thinks of how people of Gotham will be able to witness the same. He thinks of how Gotham had never been much for the bright sunny days like her ally-city Metropolis, but neither had it been quite so dreary as well. Full recovery is still a long time to come for her and her citizens but Bruce is confident they will rebuild as well as they endured.

The sound of his bedroom door opening catches his attention but he doesn’t turn his eyes away from the window.

“Ah good morning, Master Bruce. What a surprise to see you up and about this early.” Alfred’s greeting is accompanied by the sound of the plates he is setting out for his master.

“Good morning, Alfred,” Bruce greets back automatically and doesn’t wait for his friend’s account of what his schedule should be for the day before he continues with, “I will go to the city today.”

To his credit, Alfred only pauses for the briefest of moments-a second when the clinking of delicate glass plates and silverware stopped altogether the only sign he was caught off guard by those words-before he resumes his work with a hum of acknowledgement that he had heard.

“Is that so, my lord?” Alfred’s tone was calm, one that acquaintances would use to talk about mundane topics such as the weather or if dinner would be served with a glass of wine, but his unusual use of Bruce’s title gives away something else.

“Do you object?” Bruce asks, moving his gaze away from the gardens of his estate to glimpse for any reaction his companion is willing to show.

Bruce’s body had suffered greatly from his reckless dive into the crumbling chaos of Gotham, and he knew he couldn’t physically demand any more of it for a time afterwards but he has healed significantly since aided by the potions and medicines his faithful servant had concocted for him during his bed rest and it’s with a sense of relief that he wakes without feeling the tickling sensation of a coughing fit. Although he has been allowed to walk about for longer periods now without getting winded, Alfred still has forbidden him to do any strenuous activities or exercises. Or from leaving the manor grounds.

But they both knew that nothing would be able to keep the man from seeing his city eventually. Reports and documentation of the progress Gotham is currently undergoing would not be enough to dissuade him from personally seeing it himself. Now that he is more or less fit to do so, there would not be any feasible excuse to stop the lord from going.

“Of course not, Master Bruce.” Alfred breathes out a sigh and shakes his head. “Might I suggest finishing your breakfast before embarking then? You can hardly make the journey on an empty stomach.”

Bruce nods, moving back to the bed to sit and eat. Halfway through finishing a light soup, he sees how Alfred is the one staring out the window now, gaze far away. Bruce suspects his thoughts might be along the lines of what ‘journey’ would entail on his way to inspect his city. It is comforting to know Alfred’s protectiveness of him is unwavering (if also overbearing at times) no matter the years. He knows ‘The Bat’ has not given him much reason otherwise.

“Don’t worry so much, old friend,” Bruce tries to reassure him, “I am going out during the day, after all.”

Alfred glances his way with a nod of agreement. They both know Bruce is not yet ready for his previous nightly activities.

* * *

The ride to the city is uneventful. They arrive at the outskirts to the main road leading into the entrance is located just as noontime is approaching. Bruce tells Alfred to take the carriage back to the manor and come pick him up no sooner than lunch. His servant seems ready to argue but seems to think better of it at the last minute when he realizes that it will take him more or less the time that is allotted to get back, prepare food and then return for his master.

Bruce gives him a winning smile when his friend purses his lips in displeasure.

“I will be careful, Alfred.”

A sigh and a “Please do, Master Bruce,” is said back before his faithful servant finally turns the horse back towards Wayne manor.

As soon as Alfred is out of sight, Bruce drops the smile and takes a deep breath, hands curling to fight off the nerves, he turns to head into Gotham city.

* * *

The city is a wreck when he enters.

Many buildings are still destroyed, walls scorched with burn marks and collapsed concrete still scattered on the streets. It is, of course, a far cry from the city that stood proudly and looming- the source of many darker rumors to folks that traveled to and fro- but it is not completely beaten down. He spots many men and women, young and able bodied, flitting here and there to aid others huddled on the ground and against dilapidated buildings, coughing and weak. They provide water, medicine and blankets to the worse ones, urging the ones who could move to nearby clinics where healers could look them over. One in particular is carrying patients effortlessly towards what he assumes to be the direction of the clinics. Bruce notices how most of them have soot all over their clothes, most likely having worked for most of the morning and sees that some but not all of them are wearing the uniforms of apprentice healers. He also sees how none begin to show any signs of stopping any time soon and a feeling of pride envelops him. That people are coming together to help one another even after- _ especially after- _ such a tragedy has befallen them-it sends a pang of something that warms him.

But then his thoughts are halted when he feels a gaze on him, the hairs on the back of his neck standing in response. He doesn’t feel threatened, however, so he slowly casually glances up to meet a pair of blue eyes. He’s momentarily stunned at how... mesmerized he is of them, like a pull he can’t resist. He takes in the other’s full appearance, relatively tall (but shorter than Bruce by a few inches), and a handsome face not common around Gotham. He recognizes this man as the one who was picking up patients to carry them, regardless of how much they seem to weigh, with seemingly no strain to his muscles. The stranger’s expression becomes alarmed when he realizes he’s been caught looking. A flush overtakes his cheeks as he hurriedly turns away and Bruce feels amusement when he realizes the man is so embarrassed, he picks up one of the other healers who’s been helping instead of a patient. But then Bruce’s eyes widen slightly at realizing how large the man being picked up is, easily a head taller than Bruce himself and looking like he weighs double the amount his carrier does.

The poor embarrassed man gets a rather angry chastisement for his error though. Bruce looks away to hide his amusement.

When next he moves, it’s towards one of the benches that have multiple water basins stationed on them. He peers into one and sees the relatively clean water, picking it up with a rag to make his way over to a weary looking elderly man propped up against one of the destroyed building walls not too far away, eyes closed but moving just the minimal amount to indicate he was still alive. He dips the rag into the cool water and sets about wiping the grime off the man, getting an appreciative murmur for the effort and starts calculating how many people needing new homes he will have to plan for in just the section of the city alone, when a gasp behind him has him pausing.

“Lord Wayne?” a voice has him turning to the source. A woman wearing a healer uniform is staring at him in shock.

He nods towards her when she hastily bows at him after her initial stunned silence has passed and is about to go back to his self assigned task but pauses again when she lets out a sound similar to a squeak.

“M-my Lord! You needn’t do that, please!” she scrambles to reach out, hands hovering over his as if to take the basin away before seemingly remembering she shouldn’t be touching someone of higher class than her without permission.

Bruce ignores the urge to raise a brow at her actions and goes for a smile of reassurance.

“Thank you but I can handle this. There are many patients that need your attention, and I wish to help.”

The healer makes another noise that must be far too high for comfort.

“B-but my Lord! You-ahm, don’t even have a mask.”

Well… that is true. All the healers and apprentices are wearing one, understandably to keep the ash out of their systems.

“Neither is that man.” Bruce points towards the one who had been staring at him earlier. When the stranger notices the attention, he brightens up and waves back with a smile that has Bruce smiling back before he realizes.

Huh.

“Yes well, he’s a special case. He wouldn’t take no and we did need the help this morning but now we have enough help so I should have told him to move away from here too,” she fidgets where she stands as she’s explaining, as if the thought of employing someone who doesn’t have training is shameful despite knowing that she needed the assistance but then suddenly takes a second to compose herself, eyes lighting with a little more confidence when she speaks, “I duly appreciate it, my Lord. But I cannot allow you to do any more here. This area is still very highly populated with ash from the fires and you have been recovering from their damage.”

He’s surprised at her sudden change in demeanor and even more surprised at her knowledge of his condition. He had thought Alfred would have given a lie to cover up his disappearance for the last few weeks.

Her eyes soften at his expression. “Many of my patients saw you there that day, running into the chaos instead of away. Some of them you saved personally, dragging them away from the mess.”

Ah… well then. Normally, his first reaction would be to tell her that she was mistaken, he was nowhere near the city that day, lounging around on his estate far away from the danger where the monsters had decided to leave him alone. He thinks to tell her her patient’s couldn’t have been in their right mind at the time and were just imagining someone like Bruce Wayne coming to save them. But something stops him. The thought of that day, still so fresh in his mind-of the city coming down around them, the screams, the  _ silence  _ of the bodies unmoving on the floor-has him staying quiet himself. He thinks, almost hysterically, about telling her the truth instead-that what he did was  _ not enough _ .

She goes on without his answer though, “As one of the head healers in this area, I am making the decision for your health, Lord Wayne. You cannot stay here for too long.” She finishes her statement by reaching out her hands for the water basin.

He still has half a mind to deny her words, make up some reason for his absence of late that was not related to destruction of their city and tell her that her patients must have been delusional to have seen Lord Wayne carrying them to safety. But looking at her, eyes set on countering whatever excuse he could have he doesn’t feel any real motivation to do so. Besides, even if he has healed considerably, he still cannot be entirely sure he could hide the way his body tires. And it is true, there’s still the smell of smoke permeating the air here, and Bruce has been trying not to inhale too deeply, lest he set back any of the work Alfred’s herbs had done for him.

But the decision is made, surprisingly, when he turns back and sees the elderly man is blinking wide eyes at him. A second later he squints as if in disbelief that the one helping him was indeed Lord Bruce Wayne. The wrinkles on the man’s face become more pronounced when he does that and inexplicably, he is thinking of Alfred who has always been with him since he was a child. Who had been working himself ragged taking care of him since Bruce had returned from the devastating event, looking and feeling closer to death than he’d ever had before. Whom he told “I will be careful” and meant it.

He sighs and hands the basin over, ignoring the way the healer’s eyes shine at him gratefully and stands up.

“If you wish to help, my Lord, then please head over to the first reconstruction site over by the east district. There is much less ash over there.” She gives him another smile before kneeling down by the elderly man to continue what Bruce started.

He moves to do just that when the healer calls from one final time behind him.

“Oh and take that one with you! Tell him it’s on Alina’s orders and that he promised he would move away by noon!”

His eyes land on the curious stranger from before again. The man has stopped mid motion on picking up another person from the ground and is glancing in their direction as if he’d heard them. 

_ Hmm. Strange. _ A low voice echoes in his mind. It notes that it should be near impossible for the man to have heard them. They were too far away and Bruce’s conversation with Alina hadn’t been at any higher than a whisper.

But Bruce pushes the thought away with practiced ease as he approaches the peculiar man-it wouldn't be an option to always act on such paranoid thoughts during the time he spends as Lord Wayne-who perks up when he sees him coming.

“Good day, sir!” the man greets him. His voice is a clear and pleasant one to listen to, one Bruce is sure he’d gladly do so for the rest of the day.

Bruce blinks at both the way he addressed and his own errant thoughts. He catches himself in time to put up a friendly smile in return.

“Good day. I believe you were instructed to move onto a different area?”

“Oh! Yes… Alina had made me promise,” The man nods in remembrance then tilts his head like an inquisitive puppy and asks, “Have you come to escort me then?”

“Yes, I suppose I have.” Bruce answers but there’s a strange sort of amusement that sparks in him right then when he realizes that the man in front of him may not be familiar with who it was he was speaking with.

“Clark Kent.” The man-Clark- casually brings up his hand for a shake.

“Bruce Wayne.” He takes the hand and waits but there’s no reaction to be had from Clark other than a bright smile. Like he’d thought, Clark has no idea who he is then. “Then shall we move on?”

Clark nods and then surprises him by moving his hand to gently take hold of Bruce’s wrist to lead him towards the east district. Strangely, he doesn’t think to fight it.

Clark’s hand is delightfully warm.

* * *

“Where are you from, Clark?”

The man pauses in his steps, turning wide surprised eyes in Bruce’s direction as if he’d not expected such a question.

“I… reside in Metropolis.” Clark answers, but his words are hesitant, as if there is more to it than just that.

“Oh?” Bruce urges.

Clark fidgets where he stands, seemingly thinking over what he wants to say and Bruce waits him out patiently. The sudden feeling of Clark’s thumb gently caressing his wrist makes his fingers twitch in surprise but he doesn’t say anything when he realizes how soothing it is. He even times his breathing with the slow up and down motion, his body relaxing just slightly. 

“I was born far away,” Clark’s voice startles him enough to realize how inappropriate this might have been to anyone who might come across them and he pulls his hand away. The way Clark frowns at the empty space over his own hand where Bruce’s used to be makes him think that perhaps he misses the contact. Bruce tries to not to think too hard about how he feels the same.

“How far away?” he asks instead, hopefully to distract both of them from the… awkward silence that fills the space.

Clark shrugs, still frowning as though he was upset but now his eyes take on a more distant look as if he were reminiscing of the past, “Very far.”

Bruce pushes the irritation he feels from such a vague answer, a part of him not satisfied with that sort of answer. A larger part, however, understands that sometimes the past cannot be forced out of anyone unwilling.

_ No. _ The darker part of him thinks.  _ That’s not true at all. Fear and fists can go a long way into making people talk of what they’ve done. You can make any criminal talk with the right incentives. _

He shoves the darkness away with thoughts of the victims instead. Of the more careful approach he always needs with them. They should be willing to talk only under the right methods should they choose to-treated with compassion and understanding. 

He thinks of his own past too. Of how it’s always the subject of gossip around the parties and gatherings.  _ “The poor Waynes” _ they’d say,  _ “Our lord and lady Wayne were such good people. They knew how to rule the land fairly, such a shame their lives were cut short on that awful night” _ . 

_ Yes _ , Bruce understands. He remembers. He doesn’t allow himself to forget.

“But now you live in Metropolis?” Bruce asks.

“Yes,” Clark answers, something akin to grief and guilt in his eyes, “There is… not much left for me where I came from so I left.”

Bruce wants to ask Clark what he means. He wants to ask if he is similar to Bruce, in that he has lost his loved ones and cannot bear to be in the place they had spent all their lives in. He wonders if that brief glimpse of guilt means that he is running away from something he’s done-a deed so vile he would never move on from it other than getting as far away from the source altogether. But did Clark seem the sort to do such a thing? It was much too soon to tell… the darker part of him tells him to watch this man. He is a stranger here, from a far away land and could bring disaster to a city that is still recovering. 

But remarkably Bruce doesn’t  _ want _ to think of Clark in such a way. It’d be ludicrous, to want to trust in someone who he’s only met for an hour at most. He’s trained himself better than this, he knows. And yet he feels there is something to Clark that makes it seem there could be no such thing as evil in him.

“Metropolis is a nice city.” Clark says when there is too much silence between them again.

“Hmm, well. Being Gotham born and raised, I wouldn’t say I have any particular affinity for it,” Bruce states teasingly.

Clark blinks in surprise, opening his mouth to say something but then shutting it a second later with a frown and downcast eyes.

“Clark…?” Bruce inexplicably feels a small sense of guilt, wondering if he’d offended Clark somehow.

“Gotham is-!” Clark suddenly exclaims and looks up at him with such sadness in his eyes that it causes something to squeeze uncomfortably in Bruce’s chest. He tightens his hands into fists at the tell tale shine of tears he sees and has to hold in the urge to gape. “What happened to Gotham is a terrible thing! It should  _ never _ have-!” Clark pauses in frustration and his eyes dart from left to right frantically, the fingers of his hand flexing as if he wants to tear at an unknown enemy.

“Clark, it’s alright.” Bruce says and steps forward to settle a hand onto the man’s shoulder in a reassuring gesture. Because he thinks he understands what Clark is feeling right now. The anger at the injustice the world is faced with makes Bruce want to punch and kick at everything he sees as well. That he does fight against as much evil as he can, as many nights as he can, doesn’t ever make that feeling go away.

Clark settles as soon as Bruce’s hand makes contact, his eyes looking more lost and sad than ever. Bruce’s heart clenches at the sight.

“I...” Clark starts, his voice rough with emotion and tears unshed, the same look of guilt Bruce saw earlier again present in him, “I want to help.”

_ Guilty. Strange. Suspicious.  _ The darker part of him growls again, not willing to let go of the questions and truth regarding where Clark came from.

_ Yes. _ He agrees to all those, however looking in those eyes he also admits,  _ but a good man. _

  
  
  



	4. Strange Likeness

Humans were strange creatures.

This was the single most frequent thought Kal had had since he’d left his childhood den. Since he’d experienced what it was like living on his own, away from the comfort and familiarity of what he’d called home for years, it had been an undeniable but frustrating fact that he couldn’t understand the way humans worked sometimes.

They were such small, fragile and weak things. They couldn’t hear as well as him, couldn’t see as far as him, couldn’t smell the differences in scents that he could. They lacked the abilities that come to him naturally and yet some would be foolish enough to snarl and pick fights against opponents they had no choice of winning against with their blunt teeth and claws-

_ (“No, my dear. We call them nails,” Martha would explain, smiling patiently as always.) _

-And yet there are some humans who possess wonderful qualities. Martha and Jonathan, for example, were such humans-who had taken on the role of his caretakers not because of any obligations but because they had heard the cries of a scared and lonely juvenile and couldn’t walk away. Kal couldn’t imagine himself in such a similar position of finding a youngling not of his own species and raising them with meticulous care.

_ (“A child, sweetheart,” Martha laughs softly, the sound of it is like a warm hug that envelops him, “we call our young ones ‘children’.”) _

He will always be eternally grateful to them for it and in respect of their memory, he would try his utmost best to integrate his life with that of their people. He had made a promise to both them and his birth parents, after all. The dragon population was a paltry fraction of what it once was centuries ago and getting smaller every season. Both his mother and father knew this and, worried for their only offspring, taught him very early on in his fledgling years to learn to mingle with the ever progressing humans. Kal had agreed only in words but not mind the very first time they’d asked him to, secretly keeping his true intentions of never doing so to himself, but after he’d been moved out of his birth den abruptly one night into one that was colder and had no scents he could recognize, after his sire and dam had left despite his cries and hadn’t come back, after he’d met two of the most kind humans to ever have existed, he’d changed his decision quickly. They’d convinced him through their actions, how rewarding it might be to finally leave.

It was a frightening thought at first, he had no idea what to expect of a whole world foreign to him but Martha and Jonathan had been patient as they spent the last of their days teaching him how to interact with their kind. His time with them had been what seemed like only a blink, he was barely considered an adolescent at this point of his life, but they were already showing signs of their elder years, slow in their actions and aching when they moved too much. For Kal, his dragon heritage ensured he still had many centuries left but for his human caretakers, they were approaching the end of their life cycle. He had mourned their passing for decades before he’d mustered up any will to fly out of his den. 

Meeting other humans who were not Martha and Jonathan proved to be a challenging experience. He knew, from both his human and dragon parents, that humans as a whole did not believe in dragons and they were myths to be told to their children as entertainment and had been warned many times not to reveal his true form. Kal had made many mistakes in the beginning, not understanding human customs had made it difficult to blend in with them on several occasions and accidentally showing his strength in annoyance to aggressive males who were bent on metaphorically biting his tail was an incident that happened more often than he’d cared to admit. But eventually, he figured some things that he could use to pass as a human. For instance, being vague about his past usually never seemed to spur anyone to ask more and giving half truths satisfied more than he thought it would.

Humans were strange creatures, asking about your well being but then saying, through the subtle shifts in their scents and body movements, that they didn’t want to hear how your day has gone. Or when some of them would grab at his claw- _ hand  _ and squeeze with a smirk but then wince and pull back when he applied the same force.

Lois, a female human he’d met recently who had a passion for truth and amazingly figured out his secret before he’d even realized it, had laughed when he questioned it and then rolled her eyes up and to the right in a motion that he figured was meant to express her distaste in how her species acted sometimes. He was proven right when she explained “Men,” the males of the human species, “and their stupid alpha posturing, always wanting to intimidate and then sulk when it backfires.”

Kal feels even more confused. For dragons, if one male wanted to intimidate another, he’d emphasize all the traits he’d possessed to show how dangerous he could be-straightening up and extending his wings to their full length or even swiping at boulders or trees to show the strength of his claws-but the men he’d met hadn’t even bare their teeth. In fact, he’d learned from Lois that everyone who had shown him their teeth had done so as an act of greeting or politeness, something called a ‘smile’ apparently and usually meant they were being friendly.

Indeed, humans were strange creatures. Even Lois, who was kind like Martha and Jonathan, but in her own way-not quite gentle in her actions and words, never holding back what was on her mind. Lois, who was a great companion, who wasn’t afraid of him even after she’d realized he wasn’t human like her and taught him what he needed to do to act like one. Lois, who acted like an older nestmate would to the younger members, guiding them in the place of their sire or dam, who smelled like a clan member to him now even though she wasn’t a dragon.

Lois, who is laughing at him right now.

Kal doesn’t understand why though. He doesn’t believe anything he’s said to her would warrant such a reaction but he keeps quiet, letting her laugh loudly in his presence. Laughing was another distinctly human thing. When dragons show amusement, they would rumble in a way that makes vibrations sound light and huff out air from their snout once or twice. The way humans showed their mirth was surprisingly noisy and boisterous compared to how they act at any other given time. Kal doesn’t mind this though. The way Lois laughed was similar to the way Martha did, and it always made Kale smile-not in the too wide, baring your teeth though.

When Lois was finally done, she lifted a hand to wipe away a stray tear (apparently humans cried when they were both happy and sad. Such complicated creatures.) and then took a deep breath to calm herself.

Kal raised a brow (that one he’d learned from Jonathan, after Kal had accidentally set fire to the small garden he and Martha had painstakingly planted) and asked, “Are you done now?”

Lois waves a hand, nodding her head, “Yes, yes. My apologies Kal but…” here she pauses to give a snort that isn’t dragon like in any way, “I couldn’t help myself. You just told me you held hands with Bruce Wayne.” And then she starts another bought of laughs, this time much more airy almost like the chime of a bell. He’d learned this was called ‘giggling’.

At the sound of that particular name though, Kal is smiling wider. The human was truly an interesting man, Kal had never felt so curious about another human before. He remembered the moment he’d laid eyes on Bruce, catching his tall figure while he’d been moving injured people to more safe locations. His attention had honed in immediately and he didn’t know why but he couldn’t stop himself from taking the human’s appearance in. He was taller than Kal’s human form and was walking with sure steps towards the area most condensed with the ill, and Kal had frozen when Bruce had met his gaze. For a moment, it was like there was no one else besides them, Kal had been unable to look away, something deep in him that he didn’t understand rumbling and urging him to stay here with this human.

But then the moment is over when Bruce blinks, breaking eye contact just enough for Kal to gain his bearings and look away. Embarrassment coursed through him when he realizes that the rumbling in his mind hadn’t just been mental and that he’d started doing so physically, as if he were greeting another dragon-one whom he was familiar and had a bond with-and if he were in his dragon form, his tail would be flicking in agitation in response to his embarrassment. In his form, this translated to an unpleasant and warm flush overtaking his face. As if to make matters worse for himself, he’d accidentally picked up Anton in his attempt to reorient himself and he knew Bruce was watching as the healer scolded him for not paying attention.

Kal was glad he’d been given the chance to redeem himself when Alina had sent Bruce over to him-he knew he liked the healer, despite being given a disapproving look the moment they’d met (he didn’t need to wear the mask she insisted he put on, the ash couldn’t affect him in the same it did for humans and he didn’t like the feeling of something covering his airway was uncomfortable)-and wouldn’t waste it by being the first to politely greet the human in the way his people did, by bring up a hand to shake. Once that was done with, he proved himself to be useful by making sure to be the one guiding Bruce away from the ash (he’d noticed how Bruce’s breathing held a sort of worrying rasp to it), making sure the other wouldn’t stray from him by gently grasping his wrist.

“Well, yes. He shouldn’t have been in that area any longer than necessary so…” Kal says but Lois is still giggling, “I don’t understand why you think this is funny.”

“Kal… oh sweet, young Kal…” Lois says and shakes her head, the amusement in her eyes shining ever so brightly.

“You realize I am older than your grandfather, do you not?”

Lois waves her hand dismissively, “Semantics. We both know that no matter how physically old you are, in human terms you are but a baby looking towards big sister Lois to show you the way.”

Kal’s nose twitches and he snorts out a huff of air, a distinctly dragon action to show his amusement. While Lois is greatly exaggerating, she isn’t wrong when she compares his knowledge of her people’s customs and habits to that of a human hatchling- _ newborn  _ who had just taken his first steps. And besides he had already been comparing her to an older nest mate for some time now.

“The point is, though, is that you casually held Bruce Wayne’s hand upon first meeting him without a care in the world and  _ that _ is what’s so funny.” Lois explains, smirking at his confused frown.

“I don’t understand. Was what I did wrong?” Kal asks, thinking back to how Bruce hadn’t complained when Kal had held his wrist and led him away.

“Well no, not technically. Especially not if Wayne didn’t say anything. Although I do suppose others would say it was inappropriate,” Lois explains and rolls her eyes in that way that suggests she can’t stand her species again-sometimes Kal wonders if Lois should have been born a dragon, he doesn’t think her level of exasperation for humans is quite healthy when she is one herself-and he stops short of the word ‘inappropriate’. He knows what it means but he doesn’t understand how it could relate to him holding Bruce’s hand in anyway. Humans held hands all the time when they were merely greeting each other, why would this be in any way inappropriate?

“I don’t understand…” Kal says again.

Lois sighs, “It all goes back to the whole human hierarchy I’ve told you about before. Gotham is a city just like Metropolis and is looked over by the Waynes while Metropolis defers to the Luthors. Lord Bruce Wayne is the head of the Wayne family and, as such, would be considered the one with the highest authority over it.”

“So… like a dragon claiming territory over a piece of land?”

“Well no… humans don’t really claim territory, at least not like they used to. They do gather around in groups to live together in a community and more often than not, having leadership guarantees a more stable living environment. It isn’t like Lord Wayne is ruling over the land and having the city do his bidding because he’s a prince, although there have been some rumors that his mother’s side has some royal blood in it, but anyway it’s more like a mutual agreement between his family and the city. He provides protection and shares a small amount of his wealth when necessary to the people and they in turn do all the hard labor work and look to his guidance for trade and prosperity.”

Kal listens intently, and when Lois is done he considers her explanation earnestly, turning her words over in his mind until he thinks he has the right idea.

“So then, like a gathering of different dragon clans agreeing to live with each other but picking the strongest and wisest to lead them?”

Lois surprisingly gives him a snort at this, “Well, I wouldn’t say we pick our leaders depending on those traits all the time.”

Kal furrows his brows (something he can do in his human form to convey his confusion), “What does that mean?”

“It means Lord Wayne isn’t exactly well known for being either of those things.” Lois says matter of factly. Kal feels a spike of irritation, ready to defend the man against his friend instantly.

“Why would you say that? Have you met him?” he asks sourly, trying but failing to keep the glare off his face.

“On a few occasions sure. There are plenty of rumors that are commonplace regarding Lord Wayne that reach even past Metropolis. None quite flattering, if I do say so. Every time I’ve visited Gotham on business and spoke with Lord Wayne himself, I saw no way to repute these rumors either,” Lois pauses, Kal catches the way her eyes widen in surprise-most likely due to his ever growing glower at her words-and raises a brow at him, “what’s wrong?”

“I do not like you speaking about him like this,” Kal admits, because it’s the truth, “and I think you are not being very nice nor fair.”

“Oh?” Lois shakes her head, there’s something in the way her eyes twinkle and the way her scent shifts to that of a more mischief nature.

“There is a reason he is called ‘Lord’ is he not?” Kal reasons, despite beginning to feel a little bit nervous at the way Lois has a strange smile on her face, “If he was not chosen by his people for being a capable leader, why would they choose him at all?”

“Humans aren’t like dragons, Kal,” an understatement if Kal had ever heard one, “We don’t always do logical things, like choose leaders who deserve the title.”

Kal huffs, crossing his arms in the way Lois had taught him meant someone was displeased with something. “That doesn’t make any sense.”

“Kal, I’m serious. Sometimes humans choose based on something as simple as who has the most riches. Lord Wayne was born into a family already swimming in more wealth than there is water in the Gotham harbor.”

“Whoever has the most riches?” Kal can understand that. For dragons, having a hoard of golds and jewels was seen as a status symbol as well. Only the most cunning and powerful dragons were able to obtain the biggest hoards. If that translated to humans as well, Kal still doesn’t understand why Lois is saying such hurtful things about Bruce. “Surely, Bruce being rich means he had earned his reputation for doing so?”

Lois shakes her head again, “Didn’t you hear me? I said he was born into it, not that he had earned it himself. His father and mother were Lord and Lady Wayne before him and they had money. And then they passed it onto him.”

Kal shifts uncomfortably, mind whirring with this information. For dragons, once a whelp had grown past adolescence into adulthood, they would be expected to venture out on their own to find and settle down into a home of their choosing. There, they would gather food and riches to take back and guard, perhaps even share with a mate like his dam and sire had done-but even then it was his mother who had taken the task of moving her own precious gems to his father’s den-until the rest of their life. Every dragon has their own hoard. Being given one or giving one to one’s offspring was unheard of.

“What would that translate to in human terms?” he eventually asks.

Lois’ expression softens somewhat, “It doesn’t really mean one thing or another to us. Sure, some would be envious of how easy it would be to be born into wealth but,” she pauses here, gauging his face for the right answer like she always does (patient, and careful like an older nest mate should be), “whether or not you earned the money you have isn’t as significant as it would be to dragons I’m assuming.”

Kal nods, “Yes, the amount of gold and jewels a dragon has does earn more respect but it’s silly to try to compare the ideals of dragons to humans. And Bruce shouldn’t be judged for having the riches he does just because he did not venture out himself to get them.” Besides, it’s dangerous for a human to do such a thing all on their own. Dragons go as far as two seasons worth of distance in order to find treasure to add to their collection and that was by flying, surely any sane human would be much smarter in using what they were already given to better the city they’ve called their territory.

“Kal… did you even hear a single thing I said just now?” Lois’ deadpan voice brings his attention to her unimpressed face.

“Yes? Of course I did. You are saying that Bruce isn’t worthy of respect but I don’t agree.”

Lois puffs out a large breath of air, her body deflating and shoulders drooping (Kal is taught this is called a ‘sigh’) and she reaches up with one hand to pinch the bridge of her nose. This means she is very close to feeling a headache, an ailment that renders humans irritable and in pain. “And might I ask why you don’t agree? After I’ve told you I have already personally met the Lord and can vouch for the rumors about him?”

“Because I’ve met him too. And I believe he is worthy of respect.”

“Kal… meeting someone and spending time with them to get to know them are two very different things. I’ve told you before there’s a saying we humans have ‘don’t judge a book by its cover’.” Lois sighs again, and Kal sees the pressure she’s applying between her eyes is increasing. He doesn’t think that’s such a good idea, she’ll end up hurting herself if this keeps up.

“Of course I remember you telling me this saying. It means ‘do not assume off of first impressions of what a person is really like’.” he responds and thinks about how grateful he is that humans have this custom. If Bruce were to have judged him upon first seeing him, Kal isn’t sure he’d be standing here at all talking to Lois about it.

“Yes, that’s right,” Lois praises, hand still looking determined to stop any blood flow to her nose, “It applies right here, right now.”

Kal frowns, tilting his head in confusion. “But my first impression of him is that he is a kind and dependable person…” he had seen the way Bruce moved to help the ill that day he’d met him. How he’d overheard (but didn’t mean to) the conversation between Bruce and Alina about how Bruce had been there on the day Kal was-Kal takes a deep breath, steadying himself-on  _ that day _ rushing to aid his fellow people. And then how Bruce didn’t pry into Kal’s past when they spoke of it, how his eyes were turning suspicious but the questions of where Kal had come from never left his mouth. Kal is grateful, he was already feeling overwhelmed with guilt at the memory of what he’d done but adding on the thought of his old home had pulled an intense loneliness and longing at him enough to bring him to tears. Bruce had steered their conversation in another direction after that. “I still think he is one.”

Lois stops pinching her nose to give him a narrow eyed look, “Kal… how long exactly have you spent with Lord Wayne?”

Oh. Kal knew this one. Martha and Jonathan had carefully taught him how humans measured the passing of time. Not in sun and moon cycles or in seasons but in days, weeks, months and years.

“Three hours,” he answers with confidence and Lois for some reason breathes out a sigh again, this one sounding as if she was told something that relieved her but when he finishes with, “each day,” she tenses up.

“‘Each day’...?” she asks, trailing off as an alarmed look crosses her features.

Kal repeats the sentence in his head, not knowing if he’d gotten it wrong. ‘Three hours each day’ means that out of the 24 ‘hours’ humans measured in their sun and moon cycle, three of them would have been spent with Bruce. He knows this is the right amount because he had measured how much an hour was back when he’d learned by watching the sun slowly move in comparison to the ‘hour’. He doesn’t see the problem with the way he worded it so he nods in agreement.

“Kal… how long ago was your first meeting with Wayne?”

Kal smiles. He knows this one too. “Three weeks ago.”

“‘Three  _ weeks _ ?!” Lois nearly screeches and Kal veers back, surprise overtaking him at the sheer volume. “Three weeks?! And only now do you decide to tell me about it?!”

“Well… I am doing as you instructed. I cannot ‘judge a book by its cover’ so I spent as much time as I thought was reasonable to get to know Bruce and now I have gotten to know him so I can tell you about him.” Kal doesn’t understand why Lois is looking so incredulously at him.

“‘Gotten to know him’?”

Nor why she keeps repeating what he’s saying.

“Yes. He thinks about his city and his people a lot. He is always talking about wanting to help them whenever I am invited to talk with him at his home,” he pauses for just a second as Lois makes a choking noise but she waves off his concern so he continues, “He is a kind and generous person. You say he was born into riches but I know he has only used them for the benefit of Gotham.”

Lois stares at him in silence for a long while. It takes everything in Kal not to fidget and look away, a sign of guilt for humans and dragons alike and he has nothing to feel guilty about, as she keeps staring. Finally she says something, but it’s not what he’s expecting.

“Kal, what is Lord Wayne to you?”

“Pardon?” Kal blinks, not understanding what she means.

“I asked you what you think about Wayne.”

“...I have just told you what I think about him, haven't I?”

“Yes,” Lois purses his lips in a way that meant  _ she _ was thinking about something unpleasant, her eyes going a bit distant, “You have told me you spent weeks in Wayne’s company. Only speaking about your meetings with him to me after he has already earned your favor so that if I have anything to say about him that did not paint him in a rose colored light, you would rebuke me. You call him kind and generous where others would call him foolish and cowardly. He has invited you into his home, of which you’ve accepted every time.”

“I…” Kal blinks, stunned into a short lapse of silence afterwards.

“And all this time,” Lois narrows her eyes, arms crossing over her chest, “You have only been addressing him as ‘Bruce’.”

Kal startles, “I-... he has not expressed any objections to it.”

“Hmm.” This does placate her in the slightest, if anything, it causes something to harden in her eyes. She sighs heavily once again and Kal wants to feel bad but her next question catches him so completely off guard he can’t hope to recover as his brain halts all thoughts, “Kal, are you thinking about courting Bruce Wayne?”

* * *

_ Courting? _

Lois must have been coming down with a human ailment. The hard pressure of her fingers so near her head must have done some damage after all. To have suggested such a ludicrous thing. To have even thought that he… that he was thinking about  _ courting  _ Bruce!

He admitted that maybe she had gotten the wrong idea when he’d told her how he spent his time, eating dinner with Bruce at his home. But the offer of food and a warm place to stay during it didn’t  _ mean _ -if anything the fact Bruce was the one giving Kal food would mean that Bruce was the one trying to court  _ him- _

He choked, eyes going wide.

Bruce courting  _ him? _ His heart sped up faster at the thought. No that wasn’t right. Bruce is a human. He didn’t know what constituted the start of a courting ritual for dragons. Besides, just because he gave Kal food doesn’t mean he’s done anything else. He certainly never postured and showed off his strength to Kal, not like the way Kal had done for him, lifting up concrete effortlessly from the East district where reconstruction of Gotham had begun-

No. He needs to stop thinking about it. It won’t do any good. 

A dragon and a human courting? It was ridiculous. Absolutely impossible.

(Wasn’t it?)

* * *

“Clark?”

It was not as if Kal had those sorts of intentions from the start. Bruce was a kind and interesting human whom Kal wanted to be friends with. He hadn’t been planning to court Bruce.

“...Clark?”

Why couldn’t he stop thinking about it?

“Clark!”

Kal sits up straight at that tone, shoulders setting back and chest puffed out. Bruce is staring at him with a bemused expression.

“Are you alright? You haven’t said anything since we’d stepped into the carriage.”

Kal clears his throat, feeling secretly mortified when he notices the posture he’s unconsciously taken. Making himself seem as big as possible, showing off his physique to impress the human in front of him like he was giving out a display of strength. If his wings had been out, they would have been splayed out to the show for Bruce to admire. But why would he be acting this way, even unintentionally, towards a human?

Yes, Bruce has been kind and patient towards him and he certainly seemed strong. He was dedicated to his purpose, protecting what he called his when a ferocity that didn’t deter him even in the face of recovering from the smoke and ash he’d inhaled that surely did immense damage to his lungs.

All good qualities that any dragon would look for in a mate but… what does Bruce think of him?

Kal knows, according to the standards set by dragons, that he would be a good candidate for mating when the season arrives. He is well sized, the color of his scales are eye catching but not annoyingly so, his wings are an impressive length in accordance to the rest of him (supporting him easily in the air and allowing him to take on a showy flight pattern for potential courting), his claws are healthy and his horns were tinted with a golden hue that was coveted but not commonly found among his kind.

Kal had no doubt if he were to meet another dragon, he would be considered a top mating partner. 

(That is, if there were any more dragons that existed aside from himself that were still sane.)

But what did Bruce, a human who’s had many partners before (if he were to believe in Lois who muttered about Bruce and his past ‘amorous adventures’ with distaste), see when he looked at Kal?

“Clark!”

Apparently Bruce saw something to be worried about, if the concern on his face weren’t a clear sign, the distress Kal could smell in his scent certainly was.

“I’m sorry,” Kal apologizes, realizing he’d been quiet for far too long, “I was just thinking.”

There’s some relief in the way Bruce’s shoulders relax but he’s still staring at Kal with something in his eyes that tells Kal he won’t be letting this matter go that easily, “What were you thinking about that had you so withdrawn?”

“You,” is the answer that comes out of Kal’s mouth before he can truly consider what he is saying.

“Oh?” Bruce’s voice is disguised well with an air of nonchalance that sounds natural but Kal can smell the bitter undertone that has begun to envelope Bruce’s natural scent, painting a clear picture of how upset he is.

“I didn’t mean any offense, truly. I was just wondering about your (what had Lois called them?) ‘previous romantic paramours’.” He hurriedly tries to remedy any offense but it seems like he has said the wrong thing when he smells the way the bitterness spikes in concentration. He stifles the mournful grumble that threatens to tear out of his throat, feeling the instinctive need to comfort Bruce but not knowing how to do so or what he had said to warrant this reaction. “Are you angry?”

“...no, truthfully I am more disappointed.” Bruce answers, eyes cast away from Kal out the carriage window.

“Disappointed?” Kal asks, hoping his friend will elaborate. But he waits in silence and Bruce does not move his eyes away from the window. He feels something inside him ache at this, biting his lip (an action he had only begun once he’d donned his human form the very first time) and staring down at his curled up fists. Kal thinks the rest of their ride will be like this, with neither one saying anything but then Bruce sighs.

“I must admit that I enjoy the time that I spend with you, Clark.”

Kal feels his spirits lift up instantly, a wide smile appears on his face.

“But this is in part due to the fact that you had no idea who I was.”

Kal tilts his head in confusion. Yes, that’s true, Kal didn’t know who Bruce was before Lois explained to him but now that he knows, what does that change exactly?

“I don’t understand, Bruce. Why does me knowing who you are, upset you?”

Bruce goes silent again but this time Kal can see it’s because he’s gathering his thoughts to give Kal a good answer. The man closes his eyes for a brief moment before turning to look at him.

“I am Lord Wayne, the foolish, airheaded coward whose reputation I have let others cultivate for me. I have brought many ‘romantic paramours’ to my bed and have laughed off any attempts to dissuade me from this path. More often than not, my name is spoken with glee but only to those who still have something to gain from a tryst with me, otherwise it is spoken with disdain from those who know me to be anything but deserving of my title. And you, who were ignorant of all that, who spoke to me as though I am none of those things…”

Kal only just manages to stop the comforting croon his body wants to give Bruce. With every word the man says, his scent only grows more and more bitter and Kal wants him to not feel this way. He wants Bruce to not talk about himself like this. He knows Bruce is not foolish or a coward (he doesn’t know what ‘air headed’ means but he is sure Bruce is not that either), those things have already been proven to him the moment he met Bruce. But he doesn’t know what to say in response either. He still does not understand why Bruce is upset.

“But why are you angry now that I know who you are?” he repeats and Bruce chuckles but it doesn’t sound genuine at all.

“Because now you know how the world sees me.”

“But that’s  _ not _ who you are,” Kal retorts, feeling satisfaction at the way Bruce turns to him with wide eyes. “It’s just the way you let others see you but I don’t see you in such a way. I know the real you.”

“The real me…?” Bruce asks, eyes still wide with awe and, surprisingly, a hint of fear. “And just what is this real me like?”

Kal smiles, because he knows the answer to his easily.

“You are kind, and patient. You do everything for your city and its people. You don’t let anything stop you from protecting all those you hold dear,” Kal nods to himself as he lists all of Bruce’s qualities off to him, taking pride in the way Bruce’s scent is becoming sweeter, his mood becoming lighter, “And you are amazing for taking on a leadership role while still being so young.”

Bruce bursts out into laughter. It startles Kal for a moment but the sound has his heart feeling lighter and he purrs very quietly to himself, pleased that he was able to get Bruce to express such joy because of something he had said. Bruce shows no sign of stopping, clutching his sides with both arms as he rocks forward, his whole body shaking from the force of his laughs. Kal’s purrs get louder and he hopes Bruce doesn’t notice.

Eventually, when Bruce calms down enough, he manages to snicker only the slightest when he looks at Kal and says, “Thank you. I don’t think I’ve laughed that much for quite a while now.”

“You’re welcome.” Kals grins.

Bruce takes a deep breath to settle the rest of the way down but then lets out an amused snort, “‘Young’. I haven’t been called that since my mid twenties.”

Kal blinks, surely he had heard wrong…? Mid twenties? As in twenty years? That was considered only ‘young’? 

“But…”

“Hm? What’s wrong, Clark?”

“How old are you?”

“What?” Bruce raises a brow, lips twitching as if he is about to start laughing again. Normally Kal would want that, he’d want Bruce to be as happy as often as possible but his mind is honed in on one thing right now and it won’t let go.

“...how old are you, Bruce?”

“...I’ll be celebrating my fortieth birthday next year if you want to attend the party.”

And there’s something in Bruce’s voice, something that sounds a lot like self depreciation again but Kal can’t focus too much on it because he realizes that Bruce is only  _ forty _ and that was considered  _ old _ to humans. He keeps thinking about how Martha and Jonathan had taught him what they could before they passed on. He’d been informed that they were old by the time they’d found him, ‘already passed their prime years and now considered elderly’ they had told him.

_ (“You see these white hairs I have, darling? It means Jonathan and I have been on this Earth for a long time now and that our life cycles are coming to an end,” Martha whispers, gently placing her lips upon his head when he gives a distressed whine at her words, “Fret not darling, you still have many years and that means many opportunities to find others to chase away your loneliness.”) _

Kal stares, using a sight that humans didn’t possess, at the spot right above Bruce’s ears where his dark hair has begun to show the slightest flecks of white. 

_ (“They are nothing but insects compared to us, Kal-El! Their lives are but a drop compared to the lake of our superior race!”) _

“Clark?”

_ (“They are not worth your sympathy! It is our right to rule over them, call them to heel and have them beg to serve us for the rest of their pathetic existence!”) _

“Clark, are you alright?”

_ (“Can’t you see they are beneath us, Kal-El?! Nothing but insignificant worms, born only to be crushed by the unfathomable weight of our claws!”) _

“Clark!”

Kal takes a deep breath to ground himself. Already he feels the ache of the shift acting in response to his rising anger and despair, the events of that day flashing vividly in his mind without mercy. He won’t give in though. His anger will get him nowhere this time, and the memory of the destruction it wrought-of the lives it took-pushes his scales back in time. He lets out the breath he’d been holding, shuddering as he forces his palms to open and notes, with pleasant surprise, that he’d come back to himself before his claws could manifest and pierce through his human skin.

“I’m sorry,” he mumbles when he looks up and sees Bruce staring at him with concern again, “I was just thinking about something again.”

Bruce frowns, “What is it this time that’s gotten such a reaction out of you?”

Kal closes his eyes, gritting his teeth as the day plays back in his mind again. Zod’s hateful words. His own furious snarl in response. The way they both shifted and charged without any other preamble.

“Clark?”

Zod who never stopped struggling in his hold and roared in anger when he couldn’t break out.

“Clark, please…”

Zod, who was about to breathe fire onto a terrified family, trapped by the fallen debri that their fighting had caused.

“Please, tell me what you’re thinking of.”

Zod, who’s neck snapped so easily under his jaws.

Kal opens his eyes and breathes out before he can consciously stop himself, “Dragons.”

The response is immediate. The carriage is suddenly full of tense silence as Kal nervously looks up at Bruce. The man has turned his face back to the window but Kal can see how obviously stiff Bruce has gotten. How his scent has turned acrid with anger.

“Bruce-”

“What about them?” Bruce says, his voice no louder than a whisper but filled with so much venom it takes everything Kal has to not throw open the door to get away.

Normally, this is the part where Kal apologizes for upsetting Bruce by bringing his species up. Bruce, more than anyone, has every right to be angry at the ones who destroyed his city and terrorized his people-has every right to be angry with  _ him _ (even if he doesn’t know the dragon and Kal are one in the same)-and Kal never begrudges him for always speaking of dragons with animosity. It always hurt but he understood.

But this time, when he looks at Bruce’s angry face and goes to say he’s sorry, all he can imagine is Zod’s anger towards humanity who had turned Kal away from him and it was absurd but he couldn’t stop the way his chest ached this time, how all he wanted right now was for Bruce to look at him and  _ accept _ him. How he didn’t want to hide what he was from Bruce and tell him everything. His fear keeps him from saying anything yet, he can’t stop the wave of pure dread upon imagining his reveal and then Bruce directing his anger at  _ Kal _ . Except… Bruce was already angry at him, wasn’t he? He didn’t know it was Kal- _ Clark _ -who was the one fighting above his city that day but that didn’t stop Kal from knowing who was truly responsible.

So he opens his mouth and says, “I just wonder what’s happened to it,” pauses, then clarifies, “the dragon who didn’t-... the one who left.”

Bruce doesn’t say anything and Kal swallows nervously.

“Do you think he’ll come back?”

This gets a reaction. Bruce sucks in a sharp breath through gritted teeth, eyes wide and fist balled tightly. 

“It will be too soon the next time it ever shows itself here again.”

“But what if he did?”

“Then I will make sure it won’t hurt anyone ever again.”

The conviction in Bruce’s voice sends cold shivers down Kal’s spine but he unwisely continues, not knowing what’s spurring him on but not having the capacity to stop himself.

“But what if he doesn’t hurt anyone wh-if he comes back? What if he didn’t mean to hurt anyone the first time?”

“And how would you know that?” Bruce snaps his head back towards Kal with a glare.

“I-I don’t… it’s just-he left the last time after he was done fighting the other one, right? Maybe he just wanted to do that and left because he didn’t want to hurt humans?”

“Do you truly believe that? After the way it disregarded everything in its path, leveled half my city,  _ murdered _ hundreds of my citizens!?”

That gets Kal quiet, and he looks down at his hands, guilt gnawing away at his heart as he hears Bruce give a huff and turn back towards the window. Kal glances up to see the angry frown still in place and finally says, “I’m sorry.” For both his past actions and for upsetting Bruce.

Bruce doesn’t respond to him and Kal’s heart clenches painfully at the thought that Bruce won’t even look at him now, disgusted by his attempts to defend the creature that had traumatized him. He hesitantly reaches out, making sure that he’s in view of Bruce’s peripheral vision to gently take hold of one of Bruce’s hands settled on his lap. He squeezes carefully.

“Bruce…? I really am sorry.”

A minute passes by. Two minutes. Kal is about to move his hand away dejectedly when he feels Bruce actually squeeze back. His chest fills with hope.

“I’m sorry too,” Bruce sighs and uses his free hand to rub at his eyes, “I didn’t mean to yell.”

Kal nods, moving over to sit next to Bruce instead of across from him. He tightens his hold on Bruce’s hand just a bit more and almost croons in delight when Bruce doesn’t protest. He decides then that no matter what anything inside of him says about revealing the truth to Bruce, he won’t do it. This moment in the carriage right now is all he needs. He doesn’t need Bruce to know about his other form, he can keep it locked away forever if it means Bruce won’t ever be unhappy with him again.

* * *

Except that thought churns around in his thoughts the whole way through dinner with Bruce and into his starting journey back to Metropolis. He’s long since let go of the horse that Bruce had let him borrow, knowing the animal has memorized the way back home to fly himself back when he suddenly pauses.

He sees the wings that have sprouted from his back with wide eyes, the decision he’d made earlier bouncing around in his head over and over.

But it… it just didn’t seem right.  _ Bruce _ had never hidden who he was from Kal. Had never acted the ‘foolish, cowardly’ man that everyone saw but him. How could Kal keep something like this from Bruce? But, he asks himself,  _ what other option is there? _

_ Bruce wouldn’t want to see these. They would disgust him. He hates the dragon that destroyed his city. He would hate me if I ever showed him this _ .

Still, he doesn’t know why he’s spreading his wings and taking flight towards Gotham rather than Metropolis.

* * *

The moment he lands back onto the outskirts of Gotham, he has his wings tucked back into his form and he’s headed towards the exit leading out towards the path that goes directly to Bruce’s home. He knows the city is a twenty minutes horse ride from Wayne manor but he thinks he might need the time to prepare what he wants to say to the man. Not for the first time, he thinks he’s crazy for doing this but he knows the secret will eat away at him until he won’t be able to hold it back anymore. 

He has to find a way to let Bruce know he hadn’t intended to hurt anyone, he just wanted to stop Zod-

A noise catches his attention and he snaps his eyes up just in time to see a dark blur speed directly above and away from him. His eyes widen upon catching a glimpse of what seemed like very  _ familiar _ appendages spread from a figure’s back, slowly helping his descent with a glide down and his heart quickens when he sees the figure move to jump off a building, cutting off Kal’s sight of them. There’s a loud noise, some sort of machinery but Kal doesn’t pay attention to it, he’s got his own wings out before he knows it and follows after.

* * *

“Wait, please!” Kal calls after them, landing neatly some few feet away from the other and tucking his wings away.

The figure freezes upon hearing him, turning around with a shocked expression. Or what Kal assumes is one, as he can’t see the upper part of the other’s face, being hidden by a mask as dark as the rest of his armor. There’s a nagging feeling in the back of Kal’s brain that hisses at him when he gets a good look at those lips but doesn’t think twice about ignoring it for now to placate the other in front of him with slow steps and upturned palms.

“Please, I mean you no harm,” Just a few more steps and he’s closed a good distance between them, “I just want to talk.”

“What are you doing here, Kent?!” the male(?) growls at him and Kal squashes down the urge to growl back.

“I promise you I just want to talk. It’s been a while since I’ve met another-wait how do you know my name?” Or more specifically, how did he know Kal’s human alias? The only one who he’d ever told that name to was Bruce and he would never associate himself with… wait…

Kal squints, peering into the shadows to get a better look, reaching out to grasp for the other’s wing even as his instincts scream at him to ‘Stop, what are you doing?! That’s wrong!’ except… what he has in his hand is most definitely not a wing. It has a leathery sort of feeling a wing should have but the point of connection is at the other’s shoulder instead of their back and it sort of dangles more like  _ cloth _ and oh…  _ oh _ …

Kal feels mortified, a hot flush of embarrassment runs up his neck when he realizes this is not another dragon at all.

“What do you think you’re doing?!” the  _ man _ clutches and pulls back the  _ cape _ Kal has in his hand, lips pressed into a hard line of disapproval.

“I’m sorry, I thought you were…” Kal trails off, not willing to finish that sentence and further embarrass himself.

“Thought I was  _ what _ ?” except the man won’t let it go and Kal doesn’t think he can jump off the roof to escape without being revealed for what he was and if this man knew Bruce then Kal had more than enough reason not to.

“I thought… you were a dragon,” Kal feels the hot flush of shame again as he says this. It’s twice as mortifying out loud.

The armored man is, however, clearly not amused. He took a step back as if shocked that Kal would come to this conclusion, dressed the way that he was. “You thought I was… how  _ dare _ you!”

Kal winces at the scent of pure anger wafting through the man’s armor, overpowering any other smells in the area, but he doesn’t flinch or take a step back. He stands his ground and stares right back. “I didn’t mean to insult you. I just thought-”

“Thought I was one of those  _ monsters _ ?!” the hatred in his voice, unnaturally deep and guttural that it makes sounds clearly forced to his ears, reminds him of Zod.

“I’m sorry if I offended you but,” Kal grits his teeth, he doesn’t want to antagonize this man, he must surely be someone who had lost something precious to him that day to call him a monster so blatantly, but doesn’t back down either, “Calling them monsters when you don’t even know-”

“Not this again,” the man growls and turns away, “I don’t want to hear it. Just leave and go home, Kent.”

Kal frowns, wondering if Bruce had told this man of their conversation earlier today. Was this man a friend to Bruce like Lois was to him? If so, maybe if he could try to find a way to speak to him, he could find it easier to do the same with Bruce.

“Can’t you just think about it for a second? If the dragon really wanted to hurt anyone, he would have destroyed more than just half your city right?” He regrets those words as soon as they come out, shutting his mouth with a clack of teeth. He knows they’re the wrong thing to say even before the man whirls back around with another growl, baring his teeth this time. Kal’s teeth ache to reciprocate the aggressive display but he holds himself back, he was the one who was at fault here.

“What do you hope to gain from defending that monster?!”

“I don’t want to gain-” That’s not true. He wanted Bruce’s forgiveness. He wanted Bruce to look and smile at him even after he knows the truth, “I just thought he might not have wanted that to happen. He’s stayed away this long already, maybe he feels at least a little guilty?” He felt so much guilt, it threatened to overwhelm him each day he traveled to Gotham and saw Bruce’s kind face, treating him as he always did while not knowing who was truly responsible for the damage done to his precious city.

The man laughs but it still sounds more angry than amused. “‘Guilt’? You think it feels remorse for demolishing nearly everything and then running away with its tail between its legs?”

_Yes._ Kal knows the answer is an absolute yes but this man didn’t seem to agree.

“No. If it truly did feel any sort of guilt, it would have come back to make amends by now. What good does it do to stay away from the problem it created?!”

This time, Kal does take a step back in shock. His mind runs that question again and again on repeat. He realizes what he’s been doing wrong this whole time. Bruce is right to be angry. Kal had been guilty and had come back to Gotham to try to help in any way he could as Clark Kent. But Bruce wasn’t angry at  _ Clark _ . He wouldn’t forgive  _ Clark _ because he hadn’t done anything wrong from the start.

Kal had to be the one to start apologizing.

“Go home, Kent.” The man sighs and turns away one final time.

Kal nods in agreement only because he’s grateful the man has given him the best idea of all.


	5. Dragonsbane

Bruce pushes aside the heavy curtain and makes to step into the dimly lit room but two bulky arms block his way. He raises a brow at both body guards, moving his hands up in a universal sign of non aggression.

“Could you please inform Z she has a guest?” he asks them, keeping his tone polite.

This does nothing to placate either of them as one growls like a dog and the other glares beady eyes at him.

“The hell’d ya think ya are? Ah? Think ya some special?” beady-eyes questions him, taking one step closer to tower over Bruce, “‘Dya get in ‘nyway?!”

“Through the front door?” Bruce purposely tilts his head and bats his eyes, knowing this would rile them both up even more. He’s proven right when beady-eyes fires curses at him in three different languages that Bruce doesn’t quite catch (he thinks one might be Romani) while growler lunges forward.

“Hey, what the hell is going on?! Oh for the love of-!pots”

Bruce has just used growler’s own momentum to toss him over his shoulder into the wall where he crashed face first into and was in the middle of preparing to dodge beady-eyes’ right hook when a voice suddenly halts everything. Growly is stuck two inches still plastered to the wall and beady-eyes’ fist has missed Bruce’s head entirely, body and arm frozen in a position most mimes would envy. Bruce himself is leaning slightly away from the arm that he had dodged completely, and had his right arm pulled back just enough to deliver a devastating counter to beady-eyes’ kidney.

The gothamite’s eyes traveled over to the doorway where their most recent occupant stood, a wand raised in one hand and taking the scene in with a disapproving look. Seeing her attention shift over to him, Bruce couldn’t help the smirk and wink.

“Hi, Z.”

He expects the look of surprise she gives him for the cheeky greeting but the relief on her face that replaces it stuns him for a second. More so than her spell did.

“Z-Zatanna!” Beady-eyes cries, the look of pure adoration and hope he shoots at her has Bruce stifling a snort.

Zatanna rolls her eyes, pointing her wand at Bruce, “I am going to release you and you are not going to punch the new hire.”

Since he can’t nod, he makes an affirmative noise. For a split second after Zatanna shouts, “.evom nac uoY”, Bruce thinks beady-eyes might try to pull a fast one and swing at him again but the moment Zatanna clears his her throat, the large behemoth deflates entirely and goes to help his friend up from the wall. Once they’re both back on their feet, Zatanna gestures them towards the exit and Bruce is impressed that they only  _ seem _ like they’re going to protest but then sulkily turn to leave. Not, of course, before beady-eyes gives him one more warning squint.

“Bruce, it’s good to see you.” Zatanna walks up to him with a kiss on both cheeks which he accepts and returns.

“You as well, Zatanna.”

“What occasion brings you here?” Zatanna raises a brow, twirling her magic wand expertly in one hand and placing her other one on her hip.

“Oh Z, you wound me. I had heard you were back to perform in the city for a few days and I came just to visit my old friend who I haven’t seen for years. How cruel of you to suggest anything otherwise!” He finishes his fake heartbroken sentence by dramatically both hands over his heart.

Zatanna snorts, nearly dropping her wand when she brings up the hand holding it to cover her mouth, “Bruce, please. You’re giving me the ‘Brucie’ act right now? After you haven’t seen your old friend for years?”

He chuckles and nods in acquiescence, “Apologies Z. But it is good to see you again, it has been far too long.”

This, however, makes her wince and her whole demeanor suddenly changes, eyes looking shamefully to the side as she clutches at one arm with the other. “I am sorry about that Bruce. I had heard what happened and…” she starts and Bruce has to look away himself, take a deep breath to calm himself, “I couldn’t get away from what I was doing at the time to come and… I am sorry it took so long for me to be here for you.”

Bruce sighs and shakes his head with a sad smile, “I understand Z. You have your own family to think about. I don’t blame you one bit for-...” he stops, wondering what the right words were to tell her there wasn’t much she would have been able to do. Zatanna Zatara is a powerful witch, whose bloodline ran back centuries and whose magic was the strongest of any of her ancestors; taught by the talented Giovanni Zatara, her might was feared by all her enemies. But not even she would have been able to stand up to a dragon’s might. “It’s enough that you are here now.”

Zatanna sighs and nods, though they both know she’s not entirely convinced.

“Alright then, I am glad to see you are doing well after-... well  _ after _ ,” she pats his arm and Bruce nods to accept her sentiment. But then she squints at him and a smile just shy of mischievous appears on her face, “In fact, I’d say you look remarkably well, more so than you have in years.”

Bruce raises a brow, replying in a deadpan voice, “Well thank you Zatanna.”

She giggles and playfully hits his shoulder, “Oh you know what I mean. You’re much more… light hearted than the last time I saw you.”

The last time she saw him it involved a gathering of mourners, everyone wearing black, a tiny coffin being lowered to the ground as everyone said their teary goodbyes (but not Bruce, who had run out of tears by then, having shed them all every single night before that one). Bruce breathes against the pain assaulting his chest at the memory and Zatanna notices his reaction, eyes widening and hand covering her mouth.

“Oh Bruce, I’m so sorry, I didn’t mean to-”

“It’s alright, Z. I know you didn’t. It’s okay…” he tries to sound as reassuring as his words should be but he thinks he falls a little flat when tears spring up in her eyes anyway, “Please don’t cry.” He always hated it when anyone cried because of him, or  _ for _ him.

“Oh look at me, I’m a complete mess. And look at you, so put together, comforting me when it should be the other way around.” Zatanna sniffs once, fanning herself with a hand.

Bruce chuckles and walks over to her dresser, picking up the tissue box in front of the vanity to bring it over. The performer twirls her wand once, before placing it in the holder on her thigh, and takes one tissue out with a thanks to dab at her eyes, avoiding smudging her makeup. When she’s done, her eyes are still red and slightly puffy but her makeup has miraculously (and without magic) stayed in place. She stares at him with a smile for a moment before tilting her head, eyes taking on a curious glint.

“You know. Forgive me for saying so again, but you truly do look so much brighter than before. It’s like you’ve once again found something that’s worth…” she trails off, eyes going wide and Bruce feels something akin to horror when he begins to feel warmth crawl up his neck. 

“Z…?” he asks, clearing his throat to try and  _ hopes _ he’s able to stave off the redness when he sees her mouth curl up into a sly grin.

“Something…” she practically purrs, holding the tissue in both her hands and leaning her head against it like a swooning maiden, “Or some _ one _ …”

Bruce sighs, shaking his head, “Z please…”

“New girlfriend, Brucie? Oh have we met, do I know her at all?”

“Z, no. Stop it.”

“Oh new boyfriend then?”

“Zatanna…!”

The witch gasps, hands pressing together on her chest as a look of wonderment crosses her features, “Oh it is a new boyfriend then! You must absolutely introduce us. I assume Alfred already knows of course. What’s he like? Has he moved in yet?”

“Zatanna,” Bruce rolls his eyes, “Please curb your imagination. It is not like what you’re picturing.”

Zatanna gives him an unimpressed stare, “Hmm. Yes and I don’t use real magic during my performances because I’m not a show off. Bruce, I can already tell you’re smitten and I’ve only known about him for all of two minutes.”

“It isn’t like that Z.” Bruce pinches the bridge of his nose, feeling a headache coming on in response to how stubborn his friend is being, “Yes I’ve met a new  _ friend _ ,” he emphasizes and Zatanna purses her lips unconvinced, “And yes I have grown to care for him. But we have only had casual dinners as  _ friends _ . He is my new  _ friend _ , Z.”

A new friend Bruce is grateful he’s met. Clark is all the world’s good incarnated into one person. He sees all the positive sides of anyone, can see past all the faults Bruce shows him everyday and comes back with a smile. He helps those in need, traveling all the way from another city to Gotham everyday without fail and has never once complained. The fact that he can try to see the good in even the monsters that destroyed Gotham proves just how good Clark could be (although it also gets Bruce’s temper flaring more often than not). 

That does remind him of the other reason why he is here to see Zatanna though. He frowns as the events of the past few weeks flashes through his mind. The sighting of a blue dragon near Gotham had set his nerves on edge when he overheard his citizens talking about it during his nightly patrol. He wanted to think nothing of it, perhaps it was just the fears of innocent, traumatized victims seeing things in their dreams that disappear come morning (who knows how many nights Bruce has spent tossing in his bed seeing the exact same horrors) but then some dismissive sightings turned into a rumor when more than a few people were seeing the same things. Bruce wanted to ignore it, didn’t want to  _ believe _ that the monster of his dreams had come back to plague Gotham again. He wasn’t ashamed to admit he prayed every night for it to have all been some hallucination they were all experiencing together.

His prayers weren’t answered, of course. The dragon, as huge as the day Bruce had seen it crashing into Gotham’s buildings without remorse, had let out a mighty roar before descending just outside of the city’s main entrance. The people screamed, scrambling to get away from the creature as it beat its massive wings, creating strong gusts of wind that threatened to knock over anyone too close. The strangest thing happened then, as if sensing the inconvenience its wings were causing to his city, the dragon suddenly took flight back up into the air until it took all its wind with it and then backed away to land farther from the city where no one would be able to feel the powerful gusts. The way it then walked slowly and deliberately, like it was afraid to shake the ground too much (like it knew Gotham was still rebuilding and couldn’t afford to have weeks of work set back by an Earthquake) towards them before stopping right at the entrance. It made no move further and the people began to whisper when it sat back on its haunches to move its serpentine eyes over them.

It’s when those slitted eyes met his that a hush fell over them all. The dragon made a low rumble (a sound that Bruce was loath to admit sounded more like a greeting than a threat) and got back on all its feet. The dragon tilted its head towards Bruce and with a start, he realized the dragon wanted him to  _ go to it _ . He remembers feeling anger, glaring defiantly up at the beast even as he was moving forward to do its bidding. His people were all giving him looks of concern, a few even moving forward to try and stop him but he side stepped them all with a reassuring smile and a shake of the head.

_ Well I’m here _ , he remembers thinking as he stops right at its feet, glaring up,  _ What the hell do you want? _

But then… then the dragon steps back a few paces and  _ lowers its head _ at him like it was… like it was  _ bowing _ to him and he hardly hears the unified gasp of his people behind him over _ mournful  _ sound being emitted by the creature. He remembers feeling incredulous, disbelief, confusion and anger. What game was the dragon playing at? What the hell was Bruce supposed to respond with. He remembers wanting to yell at the dragon, wanting to scream until his voice was hoarse and tell the dragon just how much he despised it. But it was like he was paralyzed at that moment, staring into the dragon’s eyes, seeing something so impossible he refuses to believe it even now. And then the dragon turns around and walks away, keeping the safe distance from him and the city again before taking flight into the sky.

Bruce had thought it was over then. That the dragon had come to give that ridiculous gesture and then never return. He was wrong again. The dragon came back the next day. And the next. And the one after that. Each time, the citizens became more and more used to its presence, but still wary of the danger it might mean to them. Each time a new rumor grew that the dragon would help the builders lift massive blocks and construction tools or even catch an unfortunate worker who wasn’t paying attention from falling to their untimely deaths. Each time, Bruce grit his teeth against the stories and refused to leave his manor.

Clark had come to him on more than one occasion with blue eyes filled with worry and Bruce had no choice but to go out to reassure him. It was a miracle the dragon was missing every time he enjoyed the day with his friend.

_ “No. If it truly did feel any sort of guilt, it would have come back to make amends by now. What good does it do to stay away from the problem it created?!” _

Those had been his words. They had been shouted in anger and frustration towards the only one who he didn’t want to hurt, who insisted on trying to make him see the good in creatures that could only be bad and his. His temper had flared after his initial bout of panic, seeing Clark that night in his city when it was most dangerous now that the guards had taken a large hit to their forces and the Bat had been out of commission long enough for the criminals to try and reestablish their territories. He had been worried, seeing Clark who should have been on his way home to Metropolis, that he had snapped at everything Clark had said. And now, his words have come back to haunt him.

“Well, I want to say you’re thinking about this new love of yours but the faces you’re making have me concerned for him if that’s the case.” Zatanna’s words have him snapping out of his memories.

Yes, that’s right. He’s here to see his longtime friend and to also ask for something regarding the problem that’s had him so occupied these past weeks.

“Zatanna, I need to ask you a favor.”

“Hm, how about I make you a deal. If you introduce me to your new boyfriend, I’ll say yes.”

“ _ Zatanna _ …”

“Oh boo, you’re back to your grumpy self right now. Alright, alright. What do you need, Bruce? You know I’m always happy to help.”

“I need you to tell me if you know any ways of neutralizing dragons.”

Zatanna doesn’t answer right away and Bruce glances at her to gauge her reaction to his request. She doesn’t seem angry or worried but there is some sort of forlorn look in her eyes when she sighs. “I had hoped you wouldn’t ask me after I saw how happy you seem right now but I guess it would be wishful thinking.”

“Zatanna…” Bruce swallows, not wanting to admit that he truly hadn’t planned on asking this of her either. That the events of the past weeks were what decided him to go to her when he heard she was back in the city. “You know why I’m asking you this.”

“I know, Bruce. I knew the moment I saw you outside my dressing room.” She replies and walks over to sit down on her dressing room table. “To be honest, I had done this research long before I ever had plans to come back to Gotham. My family had dealings with certain sorcerers in the past, you see, who had formed contracts with dragons if the old tomes were to be believed.” 

Bruce furrows his brow, incredulous that anyone would be willing to work with those…

“Hm, that’s what I thought at first too. All the stories, all the myths and legends about dragons don’t paint the prettiest fantasy. But the old tomes and records I’ve read… they all speak about the benevolence of dragons. How they were protectors and learned to coexist peacefully with humans. Oh don’t look at me like that, fine I’ll admit… After what happened to Gotham, the era of such dragons that could have been benevolent might have long since passed. I’ll skip to what you really want to know… and the answer is yes. All the tomes about the dragons themselves all speak about a ‘dragonsbane’. An item that was described to be the absolute counter to a dragon. They cannot fight it, they feel pain when they are near it and, if enough is present, can prove fatal to them.”

“‘Dragonsbane’?” Bruce repeats, filing it away to research for himself later on, “Do you have any idea what this item is?”

“Honestly no. A lot of the tomes say it is a plant that is derived from another plant that can only be planted on certain days with a special ritual. Others say it is a special gem forged by the greatest of smiths and can be enchanted only by the sorcerers who have formed a contract with a dragon themselves.”

Bruce raises a brow at that second one and Zatanna nods in agreement in the irony.

“Like I said, the tomes are old and aren’t always accurate. But everyone of them says ‘dragonsbane’ is the only thing that can affect a dragon… outside of another dragon of course.”

Bruce shudders, not wanting to imagine that ever again.

“Thank you, Z.”

“Don’t mention it, Bruce. You’re heading off now then?”

“Yes, I have a mandatory meeting with the Lords and Ladys of other cities who have come to show their support to Gotham.”

“Hm, even Metropolis?”

Bruce smiles, “Yes but it’s his son that will be attending.”

“Lex Jr.? Well now, didn’t think his father had it in him to allow such a thing.”

“Well who knows, Lex himself is getting older. Perhaps he’s finally found his reasoning to ensure things to his son.”

Zatanna snorted, a sure sign of what she thought of that idea. Bruce smiles and gives her a goodbye hug with promise to return before she leaves for the next city.

“Alright Bruce. Just be careful of that Lex boy. He’s much too eccentric, take into account what that means coming from me.”

* * *

Surprisingly, the meeting does not end in any disaster nor with anything besides the same old posturing of ‘my city is in much better condition than yours’ of which they all leave Bruce out of course, whether from courtesy or just having enough common sense to not undermine the city they are here to ‘support’ he couldn’t say (although he had his reservations about which one of course).

Even Lex Jr, whom Bruce thought would cause trouble the second he stepped into the room and set his boots upon the meeting table much to the chagrin of the other senior Lord and Ladys, was relatively well behaved. His comments and philosophies about how each city should be run was present, but not more so than anyone else’s and Bruce is afraid to admit that the day might be over with only the slightest of headaches in dealing with the other city heads.

They don’t even comment about the rumors of the dragon who was paying his city what was nearly daily visits.

* * *

He’s thankfully given mercy for once in his life as he steps out of the room. Not only does he not see the huge figure of a serpent wrapped around one of the buildings still in need of minor repairs (he has to begrudgingly admit that the creature has been cutting the time needed for his city to be back at its full capacity) but he spots far off on the road, Clark making his way into the city. The man was almost as meticulous in his timing as Aflred. Which meant the meeting had not gone over even a minute. He’ll be able to spend the full amount of time he reserved each day for Clark, going over the plans for his city’s repair with him and moving heavy objects together (now that he was allowed by both Alfred and the healers) after his full recovery.

(It must be a miracle that he was actually looking forward to his day routine more than his night one for once.)

“Oh, Bruce! Wait a minute please! I have something to discuss with you!”

He knew these series of events just had to be too good to be true.

“Yes, Lex, what is it?” He turns towards the smaller man (boy really, from the way he acted to the lack of height from a nonexistent growth spurt) and tries to give his best polite smile.

Lex pats him on the arm, stepping closer as if to hide his words from any listeners. Bruce tries not to make it too obvious he’s leaning away.

“Well, I’ve heard from a pretty good reliable source. A grapevine, if you will. That…” here he pauses, cupping his hand together against his mouth and standing his tiptoes to whisper into Bruce’s ear, “You might have a bit of  _ lizard _ problem.”

Bruce freezes, despite himself and Lex sees this, his eyes glinting with something like delight and his grin turning up just a notch.

“You see, I’ve been scared lately. What with Gotham being the first, surely she wouldn’t be the last, right?” Lex asks, a parody of some sort of worried look on his face before it turns contemplative, “So I’ve been thinking. Metropolis would be just like Gotham, reduced to ashes, gone up in flames, blasted out of existence if you will if something like that happened.”

Bruce wants to punch Lex until he stops talking but he wills himself to be still. The dark voice in his head tells him to punch Lex until he gets to the point because they both know the boy is trying to make a show out of it, delaying every second just to see Bruce hang on his every word. And Bruce allows it, if only because he knows he has much more to gain than Lex does from this.

“So I did my research. I used all my reliable sources, if you will. And I finally found a token reward.” Here he reaches to pull the necklace he’s wearing underneath his shirt out. It looks like an ordinary locket, a simple round shape and colored black. “Now you must be thinking ‘What the hell is this, Lex? Are you trying to play me?’ But I assure you, it’s the genuine thing.”

Lex stops talking and Bruce hates himself for what he’s about to do. He genuinely despises himself for forcing the question out of his mouth, “What is it, Lex?”

The grin turns up to blinding levels and Bruce almost grunts in annoyance when Lex reaches up to throw an arm around his shoulder, making the taller man bend a significant amount to accommodate him. “Now I’m glad you asked. This, right here?” He surprises Bruce by opening the locket, bathing them both in a brilliant green that has Bruce shocked from the intensity of it. “This right here is my lucky charm. In fact, you could say it’s my ‘ward off bad luck’ charm.”

_ “Others say it is a special gem forged by the greatest of smiths and can be enchanted only by the sorcerers who have formed a contract with a dragon themselves.” _

Bruce couldn’t believe this. This couldn’t be true, could it? What could the odds be, that he would ask about the one thing that could neutralize a dragon, the one thing called ‘dragonsbane’ and now it’s here right within his reach. In fact, he just needs to lift up his hand and he could just-

“Bruce?”

All at once, it was like waking from a dream. His attention snaps back to reality, eyes blinking rapidly at first the glowing green gem embedded into Lex’s locket, then up to Lex’s surprisingly calculating eyes (the dark voice in his head hisses ‘danger, danger do not look away’ but he has to because-) then he turns to Clark who had called to him from behind them. The man looks like he's in a poor state. Even from this far away, Bruce can tell how labored Clark’s breaths were and he gasps in shock when he rushes towards him and notices the sweat dripping down the man’s face (he didn’t think Clark looked like this just a few minutes(?) ago when he saw him walking up the path). It wasn’t a particularly hot day and Clark had never complained in weather more humid than this.

Bruce hurriedly went to wipe the sweat off with the sleeve of his dress shirt, against Clark’s protests that he would be dirtying it. “Clark, are you alright? Do you not feel well? Shall I go fetch a healer?”

“N-no, I’m alright. Just feeling a little tired.”

“Then you should rest, come let’s go find Alina, she should be willing to look you over just in case.”

“No, no. I promise, I’m okay. I don’t need a healer,” Clark protests, shaking his head vigorously and then groaning, clutching at his head. Bruce sighs in exasperation when he realizes Clark had managed to give himself a headache.

“We’re going to go find Alina, or any other healer and have you checked over. Come on now,” he begins leading Clark away, keeping an arm under the man’s elbow to support him and then calling out as a last minute thought, “Sorry Lex. I’ll look at your new necklace later, okay?”

But Lex is staring at Clark with the same calculating look he’d given Bruce earlier when he was about to take the dragonsbane without permission. It’s enough incentive to lead Clark away faster.

* * *

Bruce is grateful when Clark starts feeling plenty better after the day starts going by. Alina had been free to check him over but had informed both of them that there is nothing she could see wrong with Clark physically. He didn’t have a fever despite the sweat, and his mucous was a normal color, meaning an infection was highly unlikely. But she’d still given him some medicine he obediently took with some cold water and was told to get plenty of rest for the day.

Clark had argued when Bruce enforced her instructions but he would not fall for that pout. He still remembered how his friend had all but looked ready to collapse right there on the street. The fact that Clark was feeling better almost instantly since he’d taken the medicine and water only served to prove that he needed rest. Clark had protested non stop but Bruce would physically (but gently) push him back down onto a chair whenever he stood up to help with any lifting.

They ended the day with a good amount of work done, but with no help from Clark who wouldn’t stop sulking the whole way back to the gate entrance. They both paused, however, when they saw who was standing by Alfred and the carriage.

“Lex…?” Bruce called out cautiously.

“Oh Bruce, there you are! I was just admiring this carriage of yours. Simply splendid! A work of true art, must have been someone with fine taste to have had this customized! And this servant of yours! Didn’t break that stoic face, not even once. No matter what I said.”

Bruce tries not to bare his teeth when he smiles and answers, “Yes, thank you Lex.”

“Well,” Lex smiles back, a grin too cheery and waves at them, “I see when I’m not wanted. I shall head back as well. My carriage, though not as nice as yours, is here! Oh Mercy, dear. Thank you ever so much…”

Bruce sighs in relief as Lex’s voice goes farther and farther away. He looks towards Clark to ask if he was ready for their trip but then stops at the glare being directed in Lex’s direction.

“Clark?”

“I don’t like him.” Clark replies automatically, never taking attention away from Lex’s retreating back.

Bruce isn’t sure what to be more surprised at: Clark showing any sort of sign of hostility or that he admits to actually having someone get under his skin for once.

“Well, if it makes you feel any better, most people don’t.”

Clark’s brows furrow as he considers this, “There must be a reason.”

“Generally people would inform you it was because he is just unlikable.”

Clark blinks in surprise, head finally towards Bruce who’s smiling in amusement. Clark tilts his head with and smiles back, a gesture that never fails to make Bruce chuckle at the sheer likeness it had to a small innocent puppy and he places a hand on Clark’s back, steering him towards the carriage.

He intends to not think about Lex and his damn locket for the rest of the night. Anything that Lex was offering had to have a catch. Bruce wasn’t willing to risk it. He’ll find another source of dragonsbane himself now that he knows what to look for.

* * *

It turns out, he doesn’t have to look very far.

He frowns down at the locket in his hand, turning it over this way and that. It was identical to the one Lex had shown him, the simple design and black coloring matching exactly the same as the one that Lex had worn around his neck. And it was found by Alfred who had gone to clean the carriage, seen it tucked between the cushions and informed his master of it. Bruce had been immediately suspicious, of course. Lex must have planted it in his carriage for him to find.

But why…? Why would Lex want him to have the insurance he painstakingly sought out to protect himself (he doesn’t think for a second his true goal was for Metropolis) with. It doesn’t make any sense. 

_ -Unless- _ , a voice reasons to him in his head, - _ he didn’t mean to leave it in the carriage and dropped it accidentally.- _

While that did have some merit to it, why would it have been tucked so far into the cushions that neither he nor Clark could feel it and it took Alfred’s careful cleaning in order to unearth it.

_ -It could have just rolled around while the carriage was shaking and it just sunk deeper into the cushions- _ , the voice explains this time.

Bruce sighs, rubbing tiredly at his eyes and nods. Yes that did sound likely.

_ No it doesn’t. _ He thinks with a growl, wondering why he was accepting such weak reasoning,  _ That doesn’t explain how neither of us could have not heard it. Even if it did sink deeper into the cushions due to the carriages motions, that doesn’t take into account that if Lex did accidentally leave it, it would have landed on top of the seats somewhere instead of so far into the cushions we wouldn’t notice. _

There’s silence in his head at this and Bruce decides now would be a good time to sleep. Frowning at the trinket in his hand, he places into his drawer desk and locks it, heading out to bed.

* * *

Bruce spends three more days purposely ignoring the locket until he sits down at his study desk to go over some finance papers. The appearance of the dragon has diminished many of the previous paperwork he’d been tasked with, to go over and sign off on the most vital of projects over others when Gotham was struggling to rebuild. But now, with the dragon’s essentially free labor, picking up objects no human could hold even with ten of them and placing them wherever he was instructed to do so-it surprisingly opened up so many more options for the citizens to work on to rebuild not only their homes but also their lifestyles and in turn, leaving Bruce with much less paperwork to do. The dragon had been more than willing to lend a hand (claw?) to the ones who were brave enough to ask without demanding anything in return (something he was still skeptical about, he’s just waiting a very long time for the other shoe to drop) and once some saw how much the dragon was helping even with the most mundane of tasks others were starting to ask the dragon for his services as well.

By now, Bruce thinks he’s the only one who’s never asked the dragon for anything.

_ And, I won’t. _ He thinks with a conviction that he noticed, hasn’t been as bitter as much these past days. He reaches up to grab a pen to start signing off but then realizes he hadn’t brought a pen with the stack of papers. He huffs in annoyance at his own forgetfulness and unlocks his drawer to grab one.

The sight of the locket stops him short. His hand hovers over it and his eyes widen. He’d forgotten about it. He’d forgotten but now it was here right in front of him, forcing him to remember its existence.

_ -Why  _ **_had_ ** _ he forgotten about it-? _ A voice asks inside his mind,  _ -It could be important piece of keeping that dragon in line.- _

But then, the dragon had done nothing but help…

_ -No, that’s not true is it?- _ the voice whispers,  _ -It’s biding its time, waiting until you are at your most vulnerable to strike again. That’s what it did last time, wasn’t it? Caught everyone unaware as it tore through the city with its kin.- _

Well yes, that was true. But he’d been fighting with the other dragon, not working with them.

_ -What does that matter though? What it’d done was leave Gotham a mess in its wake.- _

Yes he did, but now…

_ -You can’t possibly think it has any intentions other than ill ones? What happened to making sure it won’t ever hurt anyone again?- _

But he hasn’t. He’s been rebuilding, he hasn’t betrayed anyone’s trust…

_ -Of course not. It has all the power. It’s arrogance knows no bounds. It believes nothing in the world can hurt it. But you know better, don’t you?- _

_ How would I even know it will work against him anyway? For all the bragging Lex did, it might just be some glowing green rock that looks impressive.  _ He finally loses some of his temper. That’s right, he wouldn’t even know the thing works against the dragon. If the dragon finds out he’s gone looking for ways to kill him, who knows what he’ll do to the city then.

_ -Well then, open the locket and hide it under your clothes when you’re near it. If it truly does nothing then you know Lex was lying. But if it becomes uncomfortable, then you’ll know it works.- _

He wants to argue that just being uncomfortable wouldn’t mean anything. But he can’t seem to rebuke that voice any longer as he stares at the locket. He bites his lips, rolling over the decision in his head before he scoffs at himself. How would he even know this is the same locket that Lex had anyway. What if he couldn’t even open it-

A brilliant green glow washes over him, almost bathing the whole room in its light. He stares, transfixed.

_ -Well, that answers that question.- _

* * *

“Dragon,” Bruce calls out and the sound of his voice stops everyone in the area. Nobody has ever seen Lord Wayne address the dragon in any way and are all staring quite bug eyed as they witness this. “I wish to speak to you,” he says and then hurriedly adds when he notices the creature turning towards, “Not now. I will wait for you after you’ve helped these good people. Outside the main gate, two hours from now.”

The dragon nods and Bruce finds he’s surprised at the human gesture. He nods back and turns around.

_ -One that can understand instructions but can’t communicate back is hardly any marvel.- _

_ That’s untrue _ , he growls back,  _ there are plenty of humans who cannot or choose not to speak and can convey their thoughts perfectly fine. _

_ -But that is not a human. It is a beast.- _

Bruce walks to the gate and leans against it closing his eyes and attempts to rub away at the sudden headache developing. He wonders if the sun is perhaps affecting him.

All too soon, he hears the thump of the dragon’s footfalls and turns to see it heading towards him.

_ -Like a dog, tell it to heel and it should. Tell it to sit and it will. Tell it to play dead...- _

The dragon stops in front of him, head tilted with wide serpentine eyes. The motion is somehow so familiar. Like he’s seen it before. But where…?

_ -Hurry up now. You haven’t much time. It will become suspicious and then where will that lead you? See now how it stares at you, the lurking malice in its evil eyes.- _

The dragon makes a soft noise, a rumble from deep within his chest. His eyes are still wide but they are filled with something that resembles worry so much.

_ -It’s a farce. A way to get your guard down. You mustn’t fall for it.- _

It reminds him of that other day. The first one when the dragon came back to his city, where he had been singled out. The dragon had seemed to be trying to convey something to him back then too with just those slitted eyes. Those eyes that shone with something so similar to…

_ -Impossible! A delusion. You know that can’t be real. A beast does not feel in such a way. See now how it narrows its eyes in anger. That is all a beast can express. Anger and Hate. See how it leans in, hurry now! Hurry  _ **_open the locket_ ** _.- _

Bruce jerks back when he sees the dragon has indeed leaned forward, hands shooting up to the locket around his neck. But he notices too late that the creature was still making those soft, concerned sounds. He was probably leaning in to check him over-

The dragon lets out a pained sound. Something that resembled a whine and hiss lets loose from his throat and he collapses, head dropping forward onto the ground in a crash. His breathing is getting harsher with each second and Bruce realizes that the gem in the locket is  _ working _ .

_ -Yes, now you know. Now you have the power. Now  _ **_it_ ** _ is the one who is fearful! Now you command it!- _

_ No _ , he thinks as he stares into its frightened, pain filled eyes,  _ This is wrong. _

He closes the locket shut, arm falling to the side as he watches the dragon’s breathing become much less strained the instant he does it. The large creature rises back up onto shaky legs and stares wide eyed at him the whole time. It takes a step back and then another. It’s eyes never leave him.

Bruce doesn’t know what to say or do. Before he even knows why, his hand is slowly reaching back up towards his neck. The dragon makes another distressed whine and then turns around and takes flight up into the skies.

_ -Yes, yes! It knows to fear you now!- _

_ What have I done? _

Bruce feels both vindictive glee and nauseous regret. He can’t decide which one is better.

* * *

Despite telling himself no, despite saying this doesn’t help anyone, Bruce doesn’t lock the gem away. He doesn’t always carry it with him either. The feeling of wrongness for frightening the dragon and hurting it was still fresh in his mind. The farther away he is from the locket, the more he feels it. It’s amplified by the absence of the dragon for the next two days.

His citizens are confused, usually the dragon will not skip two days in a row but they don’t question it too much. How can one hope to determine the mood of a mythical legend.

Bruce is shocked at how much guilt he feels. He wonders if he should apologize when (if?) the dragon returns.

Bruce hears the voice in his head that night answer.

_ -What does a beast need for such a thing? It is meant only to be controlled through fear and pain. Why should you feel sorry when you have done nothing wrong?- _

_ Nothing wrong? I have… I have hurt him. Betrayed his trust. I asked to speak and then I… _

_ -You have done nothing it has not already done to you. Retribution should be yours. It betrayed you first. It caused you harm first. Is it not fair then, that you do unto it as it has done to you?- _

Was it fair…? It’s true, the dragon had hurt him. But now… now he was doing his best to right those wrongs, wasn’t he?

_ -It’s actions are a way to use you. Gain your trust only to  _ **_betray_ ** _ it again. Do not fall for it. You’ve been naive once. You’ve lost everything once. Don’t do so again.- _

A coffin that was too small. Tiny hands holding onto him tightly. A burning city falling down all around him. Laying in a bed he couldn’t move from for fear of coughing and coughing and never stopping. 

_ It… trusted me.  _

_ -It will  _ **_betray_ ** _ you.- _

_ I… _

_ -So betray it first.- _

* * *

The dragon returns on the third day. Bruce does not go to apologize. Bruce does not go anywhere near it.

He has more important things to plan.

* * *

“Zatanna, I need you to find more of this.”

“Bruce? What’s-oh my… when was the last time you  _ slept _ ?”

He ignores all her questions, eyes unmoving and hand still outstretched to show her the locket. It’s open. The brilliant green glow paints her in an unearthly hue. She’s staring in wide eyed horror at it.

(He thinks it’s strange that she would look at this gem, this last piece standing between the monsters and humanity and see nothing but something to be horrified at.)

_ -She will betray you. Just like all the others.- _

He closes his eyes, the images of Lucius who questions him about his new request of armor and Alfred who purses his lips in disapproval when Bruce tells him of his plans.

(They’re not betraying him. They just worry for him. They care about him.)

“Bruce, are you listening to me? This gem is  _ dangerous _ , I feel a sickly magic emanating from it. How did you even come across this?” Zatanna is staring at him, trying to get his attention. The desperation in her voice doesn’t seem fake.

(Of course not. She cares about him too. They’ve known each for so long now, they’re close friends.)

“Dragonsbane,” he mutters with immense effort.

“What?” she looks from it to him, and he could see the way her eyes are widening in panic.

_ -She questions it but does she really not know? How could she not? She’s read so many tomes about it. She must have known where to find it from the beginning and she was  _ **_keeping it from you_ ** _.- _

He groans, rubs at his head. It’s been hurting so much lately.

“Bruce, are you feeling alright? Does your head hurt? Oh no… when did you find-...? ...long have you been…”

He sees her mouth move but he can’t make out the sounds. He can’t read her lips. Why…?

_ -If she doesn’t have anything useful to say, what does it matter. Leave if she won’t help.- _

Yes that seems logical.

The last thing he sees before turning to go back to the manor is her desperately trying to reach out a hand to him.

* * *

Bruce spends the next three days waiting for his new armor set by visiting Metropolis. He gets there in under a day by pushing his horse farther than he’s ever had before.

_ -You’ve always known where to get more without by yourself. If he had this much to start with, he was bound to have more.- _

Stealing more dragonsbane from Lex Luthor was laughably easy.

* * *

It’s usually always dark in the cave but tonight, a green light illuminates every corner, chasing away the shadows. This is where he spends all his time training, reading over case files, improving armor and tools to fight the criminals that run rampant in his city. It’s where he will craft his greatest weapon.

(Clark hasn’t visited the manor in a while.)

What would be the most efficient way to use the five pounds of precious gems he’d obtained?

(He hopes Clark is doing well. He hasn’t seen the man in so long. He misses him.)

Shape it into a sword? No that was too short range and slashing would mean he would need to prolong the fight. Bruce can’t win if it comes to that.

(Does Clark hate him now? Why hasn’t he come to visit?)

A club then? One good blow to the head should finish the job quickly. But it’s range is a problem again. He would need to get in closer than even the sword to get a clean hit. It was too risky.

(He hopes Clark doesn’t hate him. He hopes Alfred won’t stay angry at him. He hopes Lucius has taken some breaks from the armor request Bruce had demanded of him. He hopes Zatanna will recover from her wounds quickly. He especially feels bad about that one. He didn’t realize how badly his body would react to her trying to take the gem away from him. He wants to apologize to her properly. With chocolates. He hopes she will want to see him after this-)

A gun-?

He growls, baring his teeth into the dark.

_ -Very well then… how about…- _

A spear would only take one hit. It had good range. And it would be quite satisfying to feel it pierce right through that monster’s heart.

(Monster…?)

_ -It’s decided then. That shall be our weapon of choice. And we shall watch as it writhes in agony in its last death throes.- _

Yes, that sounded right.

(...oh the ‘monster’ in this story is ‘me’.)


	6. Interlude-Mistakes

Zatanna has made many mistakes in her life. 

She’s watched her friend’s son die and couldn’t do anything to save him. 

She watched as that same friend drove down into a darkness she thought he could never escape from and did nothing.

She watched as her friend’s city burned to the ground from a vision and cried when she realized that Bruce would be losing his beloved Gotham this time but by the time she could even think to send a message of warning, it was too late.

She thought she should stay away from him. All she’s ever done was watch him hurt and never lifted a finger to help.

But when her work brought her back to Gotham, she hadn’t expected for him to seek her out. She had watched from behind her curtains, manipulating the air around her to camouflage herself from his view as he asked for her. She was too shocked at first to stop her guards from assaulting him. She only just managed to stop her guards from making complete fools of themselves and sent them on their way.

She didn’t expect him to accept her greeting with a smile not only on his face but in his eyes as well.

She thought her heart would burst from happiness when she realized the reason for the light returning to them.

But then he had asked her for a favor. And she couldn’t bear to dim the light again. So she told him only enough to keep him content but not enough to truly go searching with results.

She shouldn’t have done it. It was a mistake. A _mistake_. 

He had returned with dragonsbane. With a gem that was slowly but surely _poisoning_ him.

She wanted to finally make it up to him. She wanted to save him for once. So she reached for her wand. She only intended to knock him out until she could find a viable solution to help him.

She didn’t expect the poison to take hold of his body so quickly. Wasn’t ready for his counter.

She hit the ground, soaking it in her blood. She watches him stare down at her with unseeing eyes and then turn his back to walk out without another word.

She should have realized it wasn’t her that could save him. She couldn’t seem to stop making mistakes.

* * *

She’s not dead. But her body will take too long to recover. Bruce will be lost to them all at this rate.

She hasn’t practiced this magic in a long time but it was one of the first she’s ever learned.

She chants one line repeatedly in her head to bolster her projection and then sends it as far as possible.

_.mih evas nac ohw enoemos dnif esaelP_

* * *

The one she finds is definitely not what she was expecting.

For one thing, he can see her perfectly.

She tilts her head and smiles, _“Hello.”_

His eyes go wide and he looks left, then right then points to himself. Zatanna stifles a laugh. It’s cruel to make fun of people who fear the unknown for one thing. And she’s running out of time.

_“I’m sorry I can’t explain right now but I need your help.”_

The looks in his eyes go from confused wariness to intent in seconds and Zatanna begins to understand why the spell sent her here.

_“I have a friend named Bruce Wayne and he-”_

“Bruce?!” the man is suddenly right in her face, his expression now one of intense worry and longing. Zatanna feels her nonexistent heart skip a beat staring into those blue eyes. “You said Bruce? How is he? I haven’t seen him in so long. I… I haven’t been a good friend. I was so afraid because… but it isn’t really his fault, it’s Lex’s alone and then everytime I go anywhere near the manor it starts to hurt so badly and-”

“Kal, why are you yelling? Who are you talking to?”

A woman comes out from another room and Zatanna feels her heart drop. She had started to think during the rant that this man might be Bruce’s...

“Oh Lois. I was just talking to… a ghost? Oh nevermind for now. She was talking about Bruce. Please, can you tell me how he-”

“Bruce? Bruce Wayne?”

Zatanna feels herself bristling up at that tone. This woman wasn’t making it a secret of how she felt about her friend.

“The one who _hurt_ you?”

That makes her pause.

“Lois, please. We talked about this… it wasn’t his fault.”

Zatanna frowns, pieces starting to fall into place as she watches Lois and Kal go back and forth on Bruce’s actions. She sighs.

_“You’re right, it’s not his fault.”_ Not for the most part anyway.

Kal brightens up, a smile that can rival the sun shining on his face, “I knew it!”

Zatanna nods and then watches Lois look from where Kal was sitting to the supposedly empty space in front of him where she was occupying.

_“Kal, where are we right now?”_

“Metropolis.”

Oh, well that wasn’t too far away. That’s good at least.

_“Alright then. That makes things easier. We need to get back to Gotham. Bruce needs our help right now.”_

“What? Why? What’s happened to Bruce, is he hurt?”

Zatanna bites her lip, _“Yes he’s hurt and I’ll explain everything but we should…”_

Kal’s eyes widen, and he jumps up immediately. “Right, fly and talk.”

Zatanna blinks at his choice of words.

“Wait, what? Kal, you can’t possibly be thinking-”

“Lois I have to go. I’m sorry but I need to go to Bruce.” But he doesn’t move from the room, staring straight into Lois’ eyes.

The woman huffs and crosses her arms, “Fine. _Fine._ I understand! However!” Here she points directly at Zatanna. The magician knows she can’t be seen but Lois goes on as if she were not talking to empty air, “You _better_ make sure he comes back whole!”

Kal hugs her goodbye and then they leave the house.

Zatanna expects the man to get onto a horse as soon as they’re outside. She doesn’t expect him to turn towards her and ask, “How do you plan to follow me if I go faster than any carriage possible?”

She raises a brow but answers truthfully, _“Right now, I will follow you wherever you go. No matter how fast you go. Don’t worry about that.”_

She feels just the bit nervous at his grin.

* * *

After the initial shock of shooting straight up into the air (and this is _after_ she watched with awe and not a small bit of horror as Kal _transformed into a huge blue dragon_ ) Zatanna has maybe twenty minutes to explain what situation they’re in. She explains that Bruce has been in possession of dragonsbane, a gem that was created by sorcerers who had gotten power hungry and used this gem to control powerful dragons through pain and suffering.

The thing is, nothing that powerful enough could ever be anything other than a double edged sword. The gem could hurt dragons within its range of glow, yes, but it slowly corrupted the mind of whoever was touching it too. Every sorcerer that had ever possessed a piece of this gem had slowly lost their sanity and fell into an endless loop of mental agony right alongside the dragon they wanted to use it on.

They had named it after the same plant that could kill a dragon instantly if ingested. The plant had been extinct for many centuries now but the gems could never truly be destroyed. Only locked away by a special material that kept its influences at bay.

Zatanna watched Kal’s reaction to this. He couldn’t speak human words in his dragon form but the turmoil in his eyes and distressful growls spoke volumes. 

When they land near Gotham, Kal shifts back into his human form and Zatanna instructs him to start heading near Wayne manor.

“I… I can’t. I can feel it. There’s so many of those gems there, it’s been painful even stepping on the ground leading to the steps, let alone…” Kal admits dejectedly but Zatanna smiles reassuringly.

_“Don’t worry. I only have a small amount of magic stored up in his form but it’s enough to protect you from the influences of the gem for long enough to get Bruce away from it.”_

“But…” Kal hesitates, looking at her with such lost eyes, “What if he doesn’t come with me? What if I can’t convince him?”

Her heart aches for these two.

_“You can. I believe in you. And Bruce needs you.”_ That seems enough to get him to walk forward and Zatanna calls all the magic she possesses in this form to form a protective barrier for him. She gasps when they finally reach the manor and she could sense just how much is in there.

“Zatanna…?”

_“There’s more dragonsbane here than I remember feeling from the locket Bruce showed me. I believe we should hurry.”_

Kal nods, running into the manor but the only person they encounter is Alfred who’s asleep on the main living room couch. Kal moves to wake him and ask where Bruce is but no matter how much he shakes the elder man, he doesn’t stir. They both stare at the empty cup of tea.

“Where would Bruce have gone…?”

Before she could voice an opinion, a sudden and loud noise, like the fireworks that she produces from her wand booms through the sky. Kal runs out of the mansion and looks up. The sky has just begun to glow a dark orange from the setting sun and Zatanna tries looking for what had caused that explosion.

“It’s Bruce…”

Zatanna turns to Kal, watching him take one step forward then two, still looking up into the sky as if in a trance. But when he turns to meet her eyes, there’s nothing but clear determination there.

“He’s calling for me.”

Zatanna smiles despite the nervousness that pools low in her gut, _“Then, let’s go.”_

* * *

They hadn’t been expecting Bruce to be following them from horseback _behind them._ Kal had made some strange noise the moment they’d spotted Bruce clad in his new armor (Zatanna wonders what new functions it may have in passing) and she wants to ask what’s wrong but they have more pressing matters when they see the green glowing tip of the spear in his hand.

He _fashioned a weapon_ out of the only thing that could kill Kal and neither of them could afford to stop nor speed up too much where they might lose Bruce. They have to lead him away from civilization but she doesn’t know where they should go.

Then Kal halts mid flight and Zatanna sees it’s because Bruce has also stopped behind them. He sits on his horse like a regal ruler, staring at Kal. They don’t have to see his face behind the mask to know what sort of expression the dragonsbane is making for him. Bruce tugs at the reins and then his horse is taking him back towards Gotham and Zatanna doesn’t have time to tell Kal to stop before he’s following.

_“This is a trap.”_ She warns him. Of course it’s a trap. They both knew that it’s been a trap from the moment they found no sign of Bruce in the manor. But what choice do they have?

Surprisingly, it’s not back to Gotham that Bruce leads them. He takes a turn at a pass that takes them into what looks like an abandoned tower, disappearing into it after jumping from his horse. Perhaps it had been a stronghold once many years ago, but now it looked dilapidated even from the outside. Zatanna feels a shudder at the sheer amount of dragonsbane Bruce has managed to fill this place with. Kal looks nervous as he lands and shifts back into his human form, as if he could feel the green gems even through the barrier she has placed. Zatanna would believe him if he had claimed so.

_“Kal. I think you should call out to him. It’d be better to take the advantage by making the first move.”_ She says but she’s not so sure where the ‘first move’ constitutes in this game of cat and mouse they’ve landed themselves in.

But Kal nods his head at her suggestion and calls out loudly into the dark, dusty space, “Bruce! Are you there? It’s me!” He pauses to hear any answer but only silence fills the emptiness. Undeterred, he continues to shout as he moves closer into the tower, ignoring Zatanna’s hiss of _“no don’t go in there!”._

“Bruce! It’s me, Clark!”

_“Clark?”_ Zatanna mouths to herself in confusion.

“I’m sorry I haven’t visited you in all this time, you must have felt so lonely. I… I hope you did because I really missed you… please, can you come out so we can talk? I really just want to hear your voice even for just a moment.”

Zatanna doesn’t think she’s ever heard someone be so earnest in their pleading. She thinks she would be blushing if she were capable of it at the moment.

“Please, Bruce? I-”

“Clark?”

They both turn towards the far corner of the room, where Bruce is hidden cleverly by the shadows. Zatanna knows she would be have been frightened by such an appearance but Kal-Clark?-only smiles in relief.

“Bruce!”

“Clark… what are you… doing here?”

Bruce sounds so confused, and his eyes are wide, something familiar in them as he stares at Kal. Zatanna feels a hope blooming in her chest, they might have a very good chance of saving him.

“I came to save you Bruce.”

“Save… me…?”

“Yes Bruce. That green gem you have in your hand. That spear is hurting you.” Clark nods, walking forward with hands outstretched. Zatanna gasps, and hurries to reinforce the barrier as the spear comes closer. Even with the extra layer, Clark winces when he takes Bruce’s hands in his. Zatanna notices the way Bruce’s eyes flicker at that reaction.

“Hurting… me…?”

“Yes it’s evil, Bruce. It will continue to eat at your mind until you’re nothing like the person you were before.”

“Oh? So you’ve come to save me from it then?”

Clark smiles brightly, “Yes, exactly. So just drop the spear, and I’ll take you somewhere safe away from it.”

“‘Take me somewhere safe’...”

Zatanna panics as the familiarity and confusion completely disappears from those eyes, replaced by a madness that has her shouting to Clark. Bruce begins to laugh, tears streaming down his face as if he’d told the biggest joke in the world but that it had cost his world to listen to.

“It was right… it was right all along…”

“What? What was right, Bruce?” Clark is still trying, still holding onto Bruce’s hands but Zatanna needs him to get out of here _right now_.

“It told me you would gain my trust only to betray it later. It was right… it was… hehehehe…”

“No,” Clark shakes his head, eyes filling with horror, “No I would never betray you Bruce. You-you know that don’t you?”

“But you have… you’ve done it already. You’ve lied to me, tricked me into thinking you were real. But it was all fake.”

“N-no…” Clark falters and Zatanna doesn’t have time, she’s still shouting. Still telling Clark to _get out now_ but he’s ignoring her words. His eyes are only for Bruce right now and she feels her heart crushing when Bruce looks up into Clark’s eyes with nothing but sadness.

“You won’t tell me the truth even now, when it’s obvious who the dragonsbane is _really_ hurting.”

And then Zatanna can’t keep up her magic anymore. And the last thing she sees before she’s sent reeling back into her body is the sight of Bruce thrusting the spear straight towards Clark’s chest.

* * *

Zatanna wakes but it’s with a sob.

Her family is there with her, all staring down at her in various degrees of relief and worry. The nurses come in when she turns hysterical, screaming at them to take her back to Gotham so she can help. Her family tries to tell her she’s almost completely depleted her magic and it’s dangerously low. She can’t help anyone in this state. She won’t listen.

The last thing she does before the nurses successfully manage to put her under is mutter one last spell.

  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well, what spell do you think she cast?


	7. Past vs Present

Kal drags himself as much as possible, holding onto a destroyed wall for support. He’s limping slightly, and losing blood but he thinks he might be making great progress for someone who’d been stabbed in the shoulder by a weapon crafted solely for killing his kind while potentially being surrounded by the same material to create that weapon at any given time.

He knew he should have heeded Zatanna when she told him to leave. They could both feel her magic slowly ebbing away until it was no thicker than a sheet of parchment paper. But Bruce was right in front of him. Bruce had looked at him with his eyes pleading for salvation. He had seen it. He couldn’t just run away from it.

(He refused to run away from everything again.)

He knows Bruce is still in there and he’ll find a way to save him without Zatanna’s help.

(He hopes she’s okay and that she’s just returned to her body.)

He forces his feet to walk a few more minutes into what appeared to be an empty room and sits in the far corner, trying to catch his breath. Touching the spot where the spear cut through was the worst physical agony he’d ever experienced. Even more so than the first time Bruce had used it on him in Gotham, where Kal could do nothing but fall to the floor in pain and whine. He’d been so afraid of Bruce after that, he hadn’t returned for two days, wondering if it would be used on him again. He knows now that it had been a mistake. He’s only had a taste of what dragonsbane could do and it hurt him so much.

But Bruce has had it in his possession far longer than Kal`s ever even come into contact with. Has endured it all this time and is still suffering from its effects.

“Clark!”

Kal jolts at the sudden shout, heart clenching at the anger in that voice.

“Stop hiding! Come out and _fight me_!”

Kal squeezes his eyes shut. He won’t abandon Bruce, but he’s not ready to come out just yet.

“I said come out! Why are you always such a coward?! Always hiding _everything!_ ”

A crash on the far side of the hall away from his room gives him a clue about how long it will take Bruce to find him.

“You were never going to tell me, were you?! You said I wasn’t a fool in your eyes but that was all a lie, wasn’t it?!”

Another crash, this time slightly closer. Kal bites his lip against answering, ‘No. No I’ve never thought you a fool. Please, please don’t say that Bruce.’

“You were secretly laughing at me all this time,” a sickening horror fills him as he hears that insane laughter again, “Joke’s, hahaha, joke’s on _me!”_

And then Kal jumps again as Bruce lets out a furious scream and several crashes happen in succession. After that, a silence follows and Kal has to fight the tears welling up in his eyes when he hears Bruce continuously mumble, “joke’s on me, joke’s on me, joke’s on me…”

“My birth name is Kal of the dragon clan El,” Kal knows this is a mistake the moment he says this, he can hear Bruce going silent and then picking himself up from the floor towards his room, “I didn’t mean to fly into Gotham when Zod attacked me, I had been thinking about getting the fight as far away from Metropolis as possible but then he barreled straight into me and I couldn’t coordinate our flight to dodge your city in time.”

He hears the drag of the spear as it glides against the floor, Bruce is getting ever closer to him.

“I didn’t want to fight in your city either but Zod had figured out my plan after the first time and wouldn’t follow me after I tried to take our fight somewhere else again. He was going to kill everyone in Gotham, I could see it in his eyes… so I went back to stop him.” 

The drag of the spear has stopped. So has Bruce’s footsteps. Kal feels hope rise up in him.

“That day, I… I could hear them dying. I could hear their screams and pleas but I couldn’t _stop_ . If I did, they would _all_ die and-” But he pauses here. The words are stuck in his throat and tears well up in his eyes for an entirely different reason now. There’s anger and devastation as his memories assault him. “I… I finally had him pinned down. He couldn’t escape, I was going to wait it out however long it took before he finally calmed down… but then he saw the family on the other side of the building and…”

Kal takes a few shuddering breaths to gain the strength to go on. Bruce has taken five more steps towards him.

“I felt the fire burning in his chest, ready to travel up his throat and I couldn’t move our positions because he had _me_ pinned in place as well and I… so I…”

“Killed him.” Bruce continues for him, he’s right outside the door now.

Kal closes his eyes against the tears and memory, “Took his neck in my jaw and snapped it.”

The door opens and Bruce strides in. He feels himself begin to weaken and sweat heavily as the spear comes closer again. A boot slams him down against the ground and knocks the wind out of him. His eyes fly open and he gasps involuntarily, staring up into Bruce’s cold eyes.

“Did you enjoy it?” Bruce asks with a tone that’s just as dead as his eyes.

Kal wants to sob when he sees the light has finally gone out of them. He was too late.

“Did you?” The boot travels up to press hard against his throat.

Kal can’t even breathe, let alone answer and he shakes his head no when Bruce moves to put more force into it. He wonders if Bruce intends to snap _his_ neck like this and thinks this might be what Lois called ‘poetic justice’.

“Hm, that’s too bad.” Bruce lifts the spear above his head, staring straight into Kal’s eyes he says, “ _I’ll_ feel quite satisfied when this pierces your heart though.”

The ground Kal’s laying on rumbles all of a sudden. Bruce almost loses his balance and Kal wants to think he has the strength to push him off but he’s got none after being exposed to the spear for this long. He could only manage a twitch of a finger and nothing else as Bruce looks around them in confusion.

Now that he truly has time to think about it without a foot at his windpipe, why was the ground shaking? An Earthquake? But those were nearly impossible to happen on a scale this large near Gotham.

The ground shakes again, this time nearly enough to knock Bruce completely off of him.

Kal realizes with a start, that it’s not the ground that’s shaking. Just the tower.

Bruce’s violence earlier must have knocked any of the remaining balance it had to keep itself up and now it was crumbling faster than it ever had over the years. Both of them realize what’s going to happen at the same time, turning to look at each other with wide eyes before a loud snap goes off in another room. The floor gives way after that.

Kal’s never been a fan of free falling before, he had wings, he liked using them to fly and _glide_ , not give up his control to the elements. His stomach feels like it’s turning itself inside out as he heads straight down from what must be nearly the top of the tower. 

(He takes a second to feel somewhat proud of the fact he was able to avoid Bruce for that long… Bruce? Bruce!)

He looks around in a panic, finding the man just above him trying to grasp onto anything that will save him and failing. Kal’s heart tugs when he sees Bruce try to dodge a huge slab of concrete in the air but missing just enough for it to slam painfully against his head, breaking a part of his helmet and knocking him out. Kal forces his limbs to move. They have no time, he has to _move_.

He lets out a frustrated roar when his human arms and legs don’t obey him and he shifts. It’s excruciating, his dragon form is even more susceptible to the dragonsbane than his human one and he feels the wound on his shoulder ache ten times worse. But his dragon body is able to endure so much more as well. He spreads his wings and flaps them towards Bruce, reaching out his claws to grab hold of the human.

Bruce chooses the moment Kal has taken hold of his hand to wake up. His eyes are confused, but Kal makes a surprised rumble when he sees the _light_ in them and almost roars in joy. But then there’s confused _anger_ in those eyes now and Kal realizes with dread as Bruce bares his teeth at him, that that knock to the head might have brought something more _Bruce_ back but also disoriented him enough, he doesn’t even recognize who Kal was. 

Bruce raises the spear and Kal roars in panic, beating his wings as much as he possibly can with his injury and close proximity to the dragonsbane. His wing accidentally smacks Bruce in the head, knocking the broken helmet off completely and it throwing them off balance enough for Bruce to miss entirely on his first attack. Bruce makes some sort of noise that is equal parts pain, frustration and nausea. Kal thinks he’s finally managed to deter all of Bruce’s attempts to kill him but then, he feels something wrap around one of his claws. He roars in disbelief when he sees that it’s rope-where had Bruce gotten _that!?-_ but soon he can’t even stop it from wrapping around his snout. He’s so tired, the damned green glowing poison is _still_ there and he’s still bleeding.

He sees the spear rise up again and thinks, _Yes, no second chance this time._

It breaks through his scales easily and pierces right into his chest. He can’t howl in pain with the rope in the way and it ends up as a pitiful whine stuck in his throat.

Bruce’s growl is one of triumph and Kal thinks, _Yes ok. You’ve won._

He looks into Bruce’s eyes and tries to convey, _I’m sorry._

But they’re still falling and Kal tries to beat his wings again to slow their descent but he can’t do it anymore. The pain is too intense now so he wraps his wings and claws around Bruce instead, bracing for impact. He hears Bruce gasp in surprise against his chest and he rumbles a comforting croon for him as the ground finally comes in contact and he blacks out.

* * *

Kal jolts awake with a pained cry, claws instinctively coming up to bat away the danger. His claws make contact with something surprisingly soft and he hears a low grunt in response.

Who…? 

His eyes shoot open. Bruce is laying on the floor, groaning in pain. There’s a bruise forming on his face where Kal’s claw had hit him. Thankfully it seemed it was the blunt side that had caught him. Kal tries to say Bruce’s name but what comes out is a low croon.

Oh. That’s right he was in his dragon form…

“Clark?” Bruce has reacted immediately to his noise and sits up, to crawl over Kal.

His heart soars at the concern in his eyes, light completely present in them now. He wants to purr in happiness at the sight.

“Clark? What’s wrong, are you-augh” Bruce clutches at his head and Kal makes a panicked growl. “Don’t worry about me… worry more about yourself right now, you…” Bruce sighs and his hand stretches out towards Kal almost as if he’s going to put it on Kal’s head but he hesitates at the last second, hand hovering in the air. Kal makes a groan of disappointment and tries to inch his head forward, towards it. Bruce makes a frustrated sound and Kal thinks, for one very sad moment, that he is going to move his hand away. But then a warm palm rests on top of his head, right between his golden horns and he rumbles in pleasure at how good it feels to be petted by it.

“How can you still want me to touch you after…”

Kal gives him a comforting croon and nudges closer to the hand.

“You… really are too good for me.”

Kal snorts out an amused breath.

Bruce chuckles in response, “You _are._ You are the most amazing… person I’ve ever met.”

The hand stops and Kal almost grumbles his displeasure but then he feels the minute shaking and he opens his eyes (when had he closed them?) to peer at Bruce in concern.

“...thank you.” Bruce says, his voice wavering only the slightest.

Kal purrs and then his eyes fall shut again. This time, though, he hears Bruce’s panicked voice call out to him for doing so.

“-lark?! Clar--... plea--...open your--!”

He tries his best for another comforting croon but he’s so tired. And it still hurts so much. He just wants a little rest. Just a little.

“Plea--... don--... sleep--! --al!”

Just for a second.

“--KAL!”


	8. Epilogue - Future

It’s hard to believe the worst is behind them.

He’s gone through a plethora of emotions and cried more than he’d cared to admit these past few weeks  _ alone _ . Watching Kal’s eyes close one final time in the ruins of that old tower felt like his heart was ripped in two. He didn’t think he could ever recover from such a blow.

Sometimes, he wondered what would have happened if he hadn’t listened to Lex that day. If he hadn’t been tempted into being ensnared by dragonsbane, would he still be here like this today? Would Kal?

His mind comes up with various scenarios, and he feels his heart constrict at the thought of how things could have ended up differently. He wonders if Kal could ever forgive-

“Ah, this must be what you humans refer to as ‘heaven’!”

Bruce rolls his eyes, “Don’t exaggerate.”

Kal rolls to face up at him with wide eyes, “But I’m not. It felt good back in that tower but experiencing this while I’m not injured? It’s heaven!”

Bruce has half a mind to stop his hand but then he’d be going back on his word. “If I had known I had missed all your vital points and you were going to be absolutely fine after a few days worth of rest I wouldn’t have made the offer of petting you for a whole day when I was by your bedside.”

Kal grins unrepentantly up at him, “But you promised! If I woke up, you would!”

Bruce sighs in exasperation but doesn’t stop petting. “I have a question though, do you prefer being petted in this form or your dragon one?”

“Mm… both are good.”

“I see…” Bruce shakes his head and then makes a contemplative noise.

“Mm? What’s wrong, Bruce?”

“I was just wondering. Dragon scales are quite tough.” That’s an understatement of course. Even when the spear had gone through due its nature, the seventy foot drop from the top of the tower hadn’t even dented any of Kal’s back scales and they had absorbed most of the impact from the fall. Bruce had hardly felt it when they landed.

“Of course, wouldn’t have survived otherwise,” Kal makes a purring noise, despite still being in his human form and closes his eyes in bliss when Bruce moves to spot behind his ear.

“Hmm, and you think there might be others of your kind out there?”

Once upon a time, that question might have made Kal question Bruce’s intentions. But now, he knows it’s not due to any grudges that Bruce is asking him this.

“Mm, I’m not sure. Zod had mentioned there were others but my dam and sire told me it would be very difficult to find any more… making contact with Zod could be considered a once in a lifetime miracle.”

“Hm… I remember you thinking  _ I _ was a dragon at one point.”

Kal makes an embarrassed squeak and turns his face away, “It was dark and your cape looked like dragon wings from afar.”

“I thought your eyesight works quite well even in the dark.”

“Bruce…” Kal whines and then purrs when Bruce rubs behind his ear in apology for the embarrassment.

“Sorry. But that does give me hope that there might be dragons who have black scales out there.”

“Hm? ...Why does that interest you so much?”

“I would like to request they trade some to me for any future iterations of my suit. Dragon scales would be a great upgrade to the toughness and they are flexible enough-oof!” Bruce stares incredulously as a huge blue dragon is suddenly lounging all over him. He meets those slitted eyes and sees something akin to irritation and… was that…?

“You can’t be serious.”

Kal huffs and looks away.

“Kal… my suit is  _ black _ . I cannot accept your  _ blue _ scales for any upgrades. I would stand out to every Gotham criminal out there not to mention-”

Kal yowls, cutting off the rest of Bruce’s sentence.

“Kal!”

“Aaaaeeeuaaahhoooo!”

“Kal, you are being  _ childish! _ ”

“AAAHHHHEEEUUUAAHHHOOO!”

“I do not even look  _ good _ in blue! Kal!”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> That's it! Thank you all for reading till the end! BIG BIG thanks again for Bones who had made the beautiful art prompt for this. Seriously guys. [LOOK AT IT!](https://twitter.com/Bonanza_Nuts/status/1282770954926477312)


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